


Sawbones

by seedisms



Category: Star Wars, Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Eventual Smut, F/M, Medic!Reader, Not Beta Read, Red String of Fate, Romance, Slow Burn, Soulmates, accept my typos im sorry, enemies-ish to lovers, poe dameron is a grumpy grumpy guy, proofreading sucks i dont do it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-01
Updated: 2021-01-11
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:27:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 38,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26237878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seedisms/pseuds/seedisms
Summary: Red String of Fate Soulmate AUSoul mates have a red thread tied to each others pinkies that only one of them can see.You’re the Resistance’s head medic. You can see the red thread of fate that leads you to your soulmate.Poe doesn’t believe in the soulmate / thread theory.You don’t agree with his tactics, nor does he approve of yours.Leia and Holdo just really want a win.
Relationships: Poe Dameron / you, Poe Dameron/Reader
Comments: 85
Kudos: 382





	1. ONE // TANGIBLE

**Author's Note:**

> this is my first star wars fic and also soulmate au! lmk what ya think xoxo

**SAWBONES**

**ONE // TANGIBLE**

You’d never given much thought to it, too many other obligations and priorities took precedence over _where_ exactly that small, red thread tied around your pinky led. 

When you weren’t completely swamped, however, you’d like to see how far your eyes could follow the trail until it seemed to fade, yet still pulled taught by whomever was on the other end. You’d find yourself atop one of the many hills in D’Qar, wishing it was tangible, wishing you could actually pluck and feel the _twang_ of the vibrations across the string. Maybe they could feel it too, wherever they were. They could be anywhere. The galaxy was infinite, and it was slim that people ever discovered their soulmate. Only one could see it, the other one blind until they had developed feelings for the other. 

A mechanical whir knocked you out from inside your head. A meddroid was standing to your left, waiting for you to take the chart from its grasp. 

“Sorry, FX-7,” you grabbed the stack of papers. 

“Engineer Jasti almost blew their left upper appendage off due to a malfunction in the blaster cannon of the x-wing they were working on,” FX-7 informed you. 

You blinked at the droid. _Left arm,_ you thought. _Just say left arm_. 

“Bed 5,” the droid finished, walking away. 

Flipping through the pages, though you really didn’t have to because Jasti - along with several other engineers - frequented your medbay. You sighed as you pulled back the curtain. 

“Again?” 

Jasti shrugged. “Blame Dameron. He’s the one who puts these x-wings through hell.” 

You rolled your eyes, checking over the bandaging FX-7 had applied. Satisfied, you gave Jasti a bacta-shot just for good measure. She yelped and you threw the needle in the bin. 

“I’ve had words with General Organa. Is he scouting for First Order intel or is he just taking them out for the fun of it?” 

A snort came from the bed behind you, and you threw back the curtain. Laying in the bed with an arm over his eyes was Yolo Ziff, a pilot in Blue Squadron. Confused, you flipped through the pages in your hand, wondering why you hadn’t seen his name come up. 

“Snuck in here for a few seconds of peace, Doc,” he said, arm still over his eyes. “Dameron’s got us practicing escape maneuvers and barrel rolls until we run out of fuel. Even when I’m out of the seat I feel like I’m still piloting.” 

You audibly scoffed, handing him a small vial of blue liquid to quell his motion sickness. He took it gratefully as you dimmed the light above his bed. 

“The audacity this man has, to have his pilots coming to the med bay just to escape him.” you chewed the inside of your cheeks. “Doesn’t even check on them. I’ve never even met the guy.” 

“I’ve seen him maybe twice,” Jasti interrupted your rambling. “When he’s not in an x-wing, he’s in someone’s room. I think it’s Galen, that sweet holographer this week.” 

“That was the beginning of this week,” Ziff laughed. “She tried to soulmate trick him the other day. He got so pissed he took off into the hills with BB-8 and came back this morning.” 

“ _Soulmate trick_?” You asked. 

“He can’t see the thread,” Ziff explained, arm now by his side and making eye contact with you. “Countless women have tried to convince him they can, and theirs leads to him. He doesn’t trust the concept anymore.”

“Can’t you see your thread, doc?” Jasti said quietly. 

You looked down at your right pinky, following the thread as it cut through the wall, leading to Maker knows where. The small action was an answer in itself and Ziff let out a low whistle. You don’t know how it got out amongst the Resistance base, and right now you wish you could slingshot whoever it came from into Dathomir.

“I’ve never met someone who could,” he said, now sitting up. “Can you just see yours or everyone else’s too?”

Uncomfortable with the topic, you had busied yourself with organizing the vials and beakers in the medicine cabinet between the two beds. 

“Just my own.” 

Both Ziff and Jasti seemed to deflate - just a little. 

“Do you know who yours is? Have you ever gotten close?” Jasti questioned. You locked the cabinet once you were finished and put both your hands in the pockets of your uniform. 

“It sort of disappears after a couple hundred meters…” you shrugged. “I’ve tried to see how long it goes for, but I think I’d need to be in somewhat close proximity to figure it out.”

“How close do you think?” 

“Same planet as least,” you reasoned. “Sometimes, I feel a vibration, a pluck from the string that makes me feel like whoever it is is near. I don’t investigate, though.” 

“Why not?” both Jasti and Ziff said in unison. 

“I’ve got my hands full with injured engineers and runaway pilots,” You replied, grabbing Ziff’s empty vial and tucking Jasti’s chart into the designated spot on the wall above her bed.

“Get some rest. Both of you.” 

✗ ✗ ✗

Vice Admiral Holdo regarded you with a small smile. Even through the hologram, she put you at ease. 

“I’m at about 35% of max occupancy,” you updated her, reading off your list you’d created only an hour ago with the help of FX-7. “Minor scrapes and injuries, nothing bacta and my steady hands can’t handle.” The corners of your mouth pulled upwards. 

“Thank you for being our most consistent asset, Doctor. Your work is truly invaluable.” 

“One thing, Vice Admiral,” you caught her before she signed off. “I have concerns about the quality of our x-wings and those piloting them. Do these constant missions hold any worth?” You almost winced at your bluntness. Of course, Organa, Ackbar and Holdo herself wouldn’t let Dameron and his squadron joy ride whenever they pleased. Yet, from what you’d heard of Poe Dameron, it seemed as though he could truly get away with whatever he wanted. 

Her soft smile remained. “I’m glad you’ve brought this up,” she began. “We’ve recently come into some intelligence that calls for the creation of a true operation. I would like for you to be in attendance, inform the squadron of any risks and avoidances they should be attuned to.” 

“I will, gladly. When?” 

Upon your response, Leia Organa appeared over Holdo’s shoulder. 

“Whenever you get here. I advise you to walk fast,” Leia said with a wicked smile. 

Shaking your head, the hologram disappeared and you quickly buttoned your medical coat, making sure you didn’t have any mystery stains on yourself before beginning the trek through the underground hallway into the meeting room. 

You could hear the murmur of voices amongst the team, and as you entered, you were met with a rather small gathering. A few faces you hadn’t recognized, along with a few pilots, and of course Admirals Ackbar, Organa and Holdo gathered around the central table. Although you had never actually laid your eyes on him, you knew the man who also occupied the table was the one who had been the talk around D’Qar for _months._

Poe Dameron was truly as striking as he was described. His gaze was locked on the planet slowly spinning in the middle of the table until the _whoosh_ of the doors slid open, announcing your entrance. His palms pressed to the table’s edge, he straightened when he saw you, dark eyes making your stomach churn. The room quieted as you took your place to the left of Holdo, across the table from Poe. 

“You must be the Doctor,” he smiled. His teeth seemed to illuminate the room and you hesitated for a second. A small, split second.

“You’d be correct. And you are…” you trailed off, feigning ignorance. You knew that a man like Poe Dameron was never _not_ known, and you thought he could be knocked down a peg or seven. 

“Poe Dameron,” his hands folded behind his back. “Black Squadron Leader. We haven’t had the _pleasure_ ,” he lifted an eyebrow. “Yet.”

“No, we haven’t,” you responded, disregarding his innuendo. “I have, however, met several of your pilots. I wish the circumstances weren’t in the environment of my medbay.” 

Poe furrowed his brow at that, and you stopped yourself from widening his eyes from the realization that he wasn’t aware of his pilots basically hiding from him by coming to her med bay, feigning illness or just needing a quiet place to rest. This either meant that Poe was completely oblivious to the fact that he was working his pilots too hard, or didn’t care and wasn’t too happy with the fact that they’d sought you out before or after flights. 

_Some leader_ , you quipped in your head. 

“I’m glad you could join us on such short notice,” General Organa said with a knowing smile. You nodded politely and Ackbar increased the size of the holograms of information on the table so it was visible to the rest of the room. 

“Our flight squadrons have recovered intel on a possible smuggling ship floating within the orbit of Kessel,” Leia nodded her head towards the planet, the cynosure of the table. “It’s been in our knowledge for a while, and we’d received no information that it didn’t simply belong to a spice smuggler.” 

“Until now,” Poe chimed in. “It’s been stationary, in the orbit of Kessel for too long not to be something, our intel suggests it’s a storage unit or pit stop for the First Order.”

“How do we know it holds something valuable, of interest?” a technician asked. 

“Red squadron and I flew by it last week. No need for there to be sleeping TIE fighters guarding it. I’m assuming the TIE fighters were manned, but off so they didn’t show up on our radars.” 

The technician nodded. 

“ _So, we aren’t gonna try our hand at the Kessel run?_ ” one pilot muttered to another behind her and she pursed her lips, trying not to let out a chuckle. Especially in Leia’s presence. In all actuality, she’d probably laugh too. 

“What’s your plan?” you asked, eyes locking with Poe’s. You fought to keep the air in your lungs. 

“I take Red and Blue Squadron, and we find out what’s on that ship.”

That wasn’t enough for you. “You take your best pilots, blasters hot - and if it backfires? If you’re met with First Order reinforcements, a Star Destroyer?” Poe narrowed his eyes at you, but you weren’t going to stand across the table and let him flip a coin with lives. You continued.

“What if the ship is just _spice_?”

Poe clenches his jaw, rolling back his shoulders and you definitely don’t focus on the thick muscle peeking out from his unbuttoned flight suit, veins traveling up from his clavicle to his mandible. You wonder where he’s sensitive - the curve of his neck? His carotid? Maybe it was right under the curve of his mandible. Your mind berated you shortly after your thoughts dissipated for asking. 

“If it’s not? If we uncover invaluable information that could give us the upper hand on those bastards?” 

_Carotid_ , you decide. 

“It seems too hasty,” you defend. “No extraction plan, no real strategy. I’ve heard plenty about you, Dameron. I know you’re _good_ , but are you so good that you can protect all your pilots if it goes sideways? Are you able to abandon the mission without finding out what the ship holds?” 

It’s surprising that Ackbar, Organa and Holdo would let you two bicker this out. However, Holdo and Organa did ask for your presence and your insight, so they couldn’t really object to your _extremely plausible concerns_. 

“Would you like to hop in a ship and come with? Oversee the operation yourself, _Doctor_?” Poe said slowly. The edge he gave to your title made your blood burn. Never had someone ever used your title as an insult, made it sound like a slur. It was something you sacrificed everything for. More than he could ever know. 

“I’m sure you’re more than capable of overseeing an operation, _Commander_.” Two could definitely play this game. “But this isn’t an operation, this is you crossing your fingers and hoping your intel is reliable.” 

“I’d have to agree,” Holdo nodded. Ackbar threw his hands up in exasperation. 

“How are we supposed to gain anything by risking nothing?” He turned to you. Poe smirked at his words. You suppressed yourself from opening glaring at your superior and instead turned your direction back to Poe. 

“You risk these lives, you’re in charge of contacting the families of the fallen. You deal with the fact that it was all _your call_ , despite the glaring fact that _you need more information._ ” You bit the inside of your cheek - hard. It didn’t matter how good Poe Dameron was. The information and operation was too risky, too murky and grey when, for everything at stake, it should be a little more clean cut. 

“These pilots know what they’re risking every time they get in an x-wing. It’s why they joined. Do tell me Doctor, why exactly did you join?”

The tension in the air was so thick, you and Poe were mere centimeters from each other’s throats. If he was close enough and you had a scalpel, you no doubt would slash at his. Leia minimized the holograms and cleared her throat. 

“We need to find out what’s on that ship, but I have to agree that we do need more reliable intel. Do some more scouting, more recon, and we’ll reconvene when there’s more to go off of.” She then turned the table off and it seemed that the meeting was over. Poe still held your gaze, his eyes never leaving yours as you sighed. 

“I can’t fix them out there,” you softened. “I can’t help. Understand that.” 

“Then you picked the wrong role,” Poe responded, crossing the table and coming towards you. “If we lose that ship and it turns out to be valuable, all because you want more information, that’s _your call_.” 

“As much as you may hate it, my judgement was asked for. I won’t apologize for having a conflicting opinion.” 

You swear his gaze flickered somewhere below your eyes before darting back, too quick to realize where exactly he had looked. He swallowed. 

“Neither will I. Pleasure to finally meet you,” he nodded curtly. 

A sharp _twang_ vibrated your smallest finger on your right hand, the thread tied there felt like it was physically being pulled forwards from its resting place at your side. Now, the thread felt tangible. You could feel the cut into your skin, the pressure from the pull. You looked down, following the thread not even a meter away to see it end in a perfect loop tied to the pinky of Poe. 

He wrinkled his forehead as you looked up at him, face flushed pale and blood rushing and pumping so hard it was all you could hear. The room suddenly felt so loud and so small. It felt like you were trapped under Kaminoan waves, fighting for breath, fighting to surface but you were paralyzed. Poe voiced your name in concern and you barely registered it. Swallowing hard, your gaze flickered back down to his left hand that was now reaching up to grip your shoulder. You stepped back before he could make contact. 

“I will see you around, Commander.” 

And with that, you fled the room, all but sprinting to your medbay, your sanctuary, your haven. You emptied the contents of your stomach in the refresher.


	2. TWO // PULLED TAUGHT

**SAWBONES**

**TWO // PULLED TAUGHT**

_ No.  _

You hadn’t been avoiding him. 

You were busy. Taking inventory, filling out incident reports, stocking, taking care of your  _ patients _ \- which, you noticed, had decreased in number over the last couple days. And you knew why. 

_ Someone _ must’ve been taking better care of their pilots. 

Jasti was released the morning after the whole - for lack of a better term - ordeal. She’d heard your violent retching and had banged on the door, asking if you were okay. 

Your vision was white, and after about two rounds you were dry heaving.  _ No fucking way, _ your mind rattled. The revelation shook you to your core. You were happy being unsuspecting, ignorant of the fact that your soulmate had been pittering around D’Qar for literal  _ months _ while you sat in your office, pissing off FX-7 and berating their antics in your head. The furrow of his eyebrows, the flicker of concern in his eyes at your sudden change in demeanor when you saw his pinky also had ingrained itself in your mind. Lingered every time you shut your eyes. You must’ve stayed in the refresher for an hour or two, senses numbed to Jasti’s incessant banging on the door. 

You also weren’t good with conflict, and a conflict this was indeed. 

What were you supposed to do? Tell him? Would he even believe you? Ziff said he didn’t trust the concept anymore, too many girls taking advantage of where he once was soft. Exploited that weakness until it was solid beskar.

So  _ no _ , you didn’t tell him. 

You’d stayed busy. He was busy, too. Per your objections, Leia had him and his squadrons flying more recon and actually formulating a real operation to investigate the cargo ship orbiting around Kessel. You’d heard that from whispers in the hallway, and you didn’t really want to venture out for any updates. 

Turns out, you wouldn’t have to. 

As if your thoughts had summoned him, Poe was dragging a pilot from blue squadron into your medbay, one of their arms around his shoulder, one of his around their waist. His eyes were searching, panicked until they met yours as you flew from your office and threw the pilot onto the first open bed. 

“What happened?” You asked, immediately checking for vitals. His skin was burning, clammy. FX-7 recorded his temperature and your heart dropped at the number. 

“We were flying back, literally leaving hyperdrive when I was notified Blue Three was having trouble, and could barely steer his x-wing through D’Qar’s orbit.” Poe paused. “His skin is on fire.”

“I’m aware,” you tried not to bite back as you threw FX-7 an IV bag. You also did not dwell on the fact that Poe didn’t even know this pilot’s name. “Do we have hadeira serum?” 

“You did inventory,” FX-7 duly responded as he inserted a needle into the pilot’s basilic vein. Poe cringed and looked away, eyes focused on you instead. 

You hadn’t  _ really  _ done inventory, and you were cursing yourself for it now. 

“Wait,” Poe frowned. “Hadeira? You think he’s got bloodburn?” 

“He’s been in with a fever before,” you muttered as you rifled through the cabinet on the opposite wall. Poe followed, barking over your shoulder. 

“And you didn’t  _ ground him?” _

You paused, closing your eyes for a second and taking a deep breath before returning to your search. You really didn’t need Dameron on his high horse right now, questioning your calls. 

_ It was only fair. You had done it to him,  _ you reminded yourself. That didn’t mean you couldn’t whip around and land one in the middle of his chiseled, ridiculously handsome and symmetrical face. You groaned audibly at not only your thoughts, but your inability to locate the literal life-saving serum. 

“Back off, Dameron,” you said between your teeth as you all but sprinted back into your office where you kept the more valuable medicines. You unlocked the closet behind your desk with your hand and entered, eyes scanning the shelves. Once again, Poe followed. 

“What’s wrong, doc? Don’t like it when people question your authority?” 

You finally turned to him, slightly put off by the fact he was less than a meter away. You didn’t let it show. 

“You wanna do this right now?” You raised your eyebrows. He crossed his arms over his chest and the thread around his pinky was directly in your field of vision. You held back the bile that rose in the back of your throat. 

“His fever is so high that his blood is boiling right now. Which  _ will _ kill him. So please, Dameron. If you think this argument is worth more than me finding the serum and  _ saving his life _ ,” you punctuated each word, “keep talking. But I’m not listening.”

Your eyes caught the vials to the right of his head, and he stepped out of the closet and into the expanse of your office as you grabbed the vials and quickly returned to the medbay where FX-7 had started hydrating the pilot. You handed the droid the hadeira serum and FX-7 made quick work of administering. 

You let out a long breath. You weren’t totally in the clear, but it was as under control as it could be. Poe gave you a look and you nodded, silently telling him his pilot was okay.  _ For now. _

Poe stared at him for a couple moments longer, and once he was satisfied leaving him in the care of FX-7, he kicked your boot lightly. 

“Can we talk now?” 

Swallowing thickly, you nodded and led him back into your office. Poe sat down in one of the stark white chairs that matched the rest of your office as you locked the medicine closet. You turned around to him but kept your distance. 

“What’s there to talk about?” 

He bit the inside of his cheeks to keep him from grinning. “I don’t bite, y’know.”

You rolled your eyes, but nonetheless moved closer to him and sat atop your desk. 

The red thread floated between the both of you, moving as if it was being jostled by the air currents in the room. Before you could even think, your left hand went to pluck at the string tied near the base of your finger. To your utmost surprise, the now tangible string pulled back due to your force. You let go in shock. The string vibrated and you watched the movement travel to shake the thread connecting to Poe. He coughed, left hand clenching and unclenching his fingers. You watched the action and met his eyes. Once again, he furrowed his brows. 

“Why do you keep doing that?” 

It was your turn to furrow your brows, and Poe continued, “Y’know. Looking into space and then turning pale like there’s a rancor in here that I don’t see. And then you look at me like it’s  _ my fault?" _

_ It’s now or never, _ you told yourself.  _ Come clean.  _

“It’s nothing.”  _ Coward.  _

Poe dropped the subject. “Anyways, you must’ve been swamped these last few days because you haven’t checked in to hear any updates on the cargo ship.” 

Not trusting your voice, you just shrugged as your eyes rested back on the crimson that connected the two of you. Seeing it was definitely a curse. You tried not to dwell on how different things would be if it was Poe that could see it. What a weight off your shoulders that would be.

_ Maybe if he could see it, it wouldn’t be you on the other end _ , the voice in head told you. Poe was still rambling about Kessel and you definitely weren’t listening.  _ You don’t want that, do you? For him to be soulmates with someone else? _

It happened all the time though, people ending up with those who they weren’t tethered to. The galaxy was far too huge and vast, many people never having the opportunity to leave their home planet, let alone venture and seek out their soulmate. Some people, Poe included now, saw it as a myth, it was becoming so rare. You’d only ever known one pair of soulmates to meet in the years you’d been alive. Your parents. 

Either way, your mind needed to slow down. You didn’t know Poe. From what you’ve seen of him, despite his impeccable physical features, you weren’t really a fan. But...just regarding his physical features? Big fan. 

He snapped you out of your reverie. “Stars, you are infuriating.” 

You apologized, placing your hands in the front pockets of your medic coat in hopes to ignore the thread, but it stuck out of the material of your pocket instead. 

“There’s no harm in collecting more intel,” you told him. “Especially if it saves lives.” 

He rubbed his forehead. “There is if it’s time sensitive! The ship could leave Kessel at any moment and then we’ll never know what was on it.” 

You snorted. “You said it’s been in your knowledge for a while, been written off until now. I don’t buy it. I don’t know what you’re wanting from me, Dameron, but I won’t apologize. This is how I feel, and General Organa and Vice Admiral Holdo agree with me.” 

“I want a common ground,” he said. Your gut twisted. “We met not ten minutes before you blasted me to pieces in that briefing room.” 

“I don’t think you’re used to opposition.” 

“I’m not.” 

“You should always consider every point of view, especially for things like this. Have you heard about the terror running the First Order? You really want to face him in your little x-wing?”

Poe jerked his head. “Do not insult my ship.” 

“Stars, Dameron, can you listen to a voice that isn’t your own for five seconds?” 

“I was listening, obviously, ‘cause I heard your jab about my ship.” You could force-choke him right now. “But I get where you’re coming from. Where you’re more conservative and safe, I’m intuitive and risky and you  _ hate  _ it,” he said with a smile that met his eyes.

“I would call it impulsive and ill-informed,” you countered. You definitely didn’t  _ hate _ bantering with him. You noticed subtly that over the course of the conversation, Poe had begun to move closer to you, inching closer and closer to the edge of the chair. 

“Astute and adept,” he stood, tongue darting out to wet his lips as his eyes never left yours. 

“Reckless and arrogant.” You didn’t want him to come any closer, unsure if you would either retch all over his shoes or bunch up the material of his brown leather jacket in your grip to pull him closer. 

As if the stars were listening and answered, FX-7 appeared in the doorway. Your eyes broke from Poe’s, turning your attention to the droid and Poe followed suit. 

“Pilot Nunb’s fever has broken,” it said. “He will make it through the night.” 

Night? You realized you’d been so consumed the last couple days you’d lost all concept of time. 

“Great news,” Poe said, turning from FX-7 back to you. “I need to go tell the rest of blue squadron.” Poe shamelessly looked you up and down. 

“‘Till next time, Doc.” 

Poe sidestepped the droid in the doorway without another glance at you. You remained on your desk, hands still in your pockets as you watched the thread disappear into the wall as Poe left. 

“It is hardly relevant to speak in matters that pertain to humans,” FX-7 began, “let alone ones that concern my superior, but if I may?” 

You couldn’t hide your confusion. FX-7 never spoke to you unless it was a medical matter. You nodded for him to go ahead.

“You are consumed with plenty. I caution against adding Commander Dameron to the list.” 

You frowned. “FX, do you know about the soulmate thread?” What harm would it be to tell a droid? FX barely talked to you, and chances were zero that the droid would air this to anyone else. 

The droid lifted its metal head up and down. “Yes.”

It was the most humanistic the droid had ever been, and you felt mildly miffed. Has FX-7 always been able to not be so robotic? You’d save that thought to be pissed about another time. 

“I can see it,” you said quietly. “It’s tied to him.” 

FX-7 was silent, motionless for a few moments and it almost seemed like he had powered down. “That is…” he paused. “Inconvenient.” 

“Yeah, I know,” you said, hopping down from your desk. Your hands left your pockets to run through your hair as you tried to clear your thoughts and just  _ breathe _ . 

“Is that why you have busied yourself more than usual?” 

“Didn’t wanna deal with it,” you nodded. “Still don’t.” 

“That will only prove to make things more arduous. You have two options when it comes to Commander Dameron, and you know which I favor. For the good of the Resistance and your work.” FX-7 then left the doorway to your office as promptly as he had arrived.    
  


✗ ✗ ✗

  
  


You fell asleep in your office that night, or maybe it was morning by the time you collapsed against your desk. Despite FX-7’s confirmation, you couldn’t let yourself go back to your quarters when the pilot in your medbay was teetering on the cusp of cardiac arrest. 

Leia Organa woke you by softly brushing the hair out of your face. Your head lifted instantaneously, a paper stuck to your cheek. You quickly removed it and smoothed down the rest of your hair to at least try and look presentable. 

“General,” you regarded her, standing up from your seat. She smiled softly at you. 

“Doctor, I apologize for waking you.” 

You shook your head and tried not to wince when you peeked at the digital numbers glaring at you upon the wall. 

“I needed to be awake, anyways. I’m late for rounds,” you muttered the last part to yourself. 

“I came to update you on the operation,” she moved back around your desk and sat down in the seat Poe had occupied only a few hours prior. 

“We’ve received intel that the TIE fighters stationed in front of the ship are no longer there, presumably to return to the First Order to refuel or receive maintenance. It’s a narrow window, but Commander Dameron and both Red and Blue squadrons have departed a few hours ago to hopefully investigate that cargo ship.”

You nodded at her words and contained the frown from surfacing on your face. Your stomach knotted, fearing that the absence of First Order protection was all too convenient, and they were falling into a trap. 

The First Order was smart, something you had learned first hand. You’d been on their radar for as long as you could remember. The bad guys needed medics, too. 

Some of your peers that you had completed medical school with had left to join, and ultimately you couldn’t blame them. The offer was tempting, yet mostly threatening. Most of them joined more out of fear than anything. You had been moments away yourself, but instead you were here. On D’Qar. A vital part of the Resistance. If you were someone who believed in such phenomena, you would swear the galaxy itself had made sure of it. 

“Have you heard anything since they left?” You asked.

Leia shook her head, trying to hide her worried expression. “They’re in good hands. Poe is the best pilot I’ve seen since…” She stopped herself. “He’s the man for this.” 

“So I’ve heard,” you said. “I hope he proves me wrong. And also brings every pilot back in one piece.” 

“Together, I think you two would make quite the formidable pair.” 

“With respect, General,” you tried not to snort at her words. “I think it’s better if we keep our distance. Our stubbornness might tear a rift in the galaxy.” 

“Or,” she winked. “It could bring it together.” 

You had no response. 

“I’ll be back should there be any word from Poe, and - “ 

Leia’s words were cut off by the familiar screech of a x-wings cutting into the atmosphere and landing on the runway. 

Wordlessly, the two of you all but sprinted from the medical wing out into the open, expansive area that was the runway. Countless others were surfacing outside, watching the ships land and be courted off into the hangars for repairs. From what you could tell, they all looked fine. No exposed wires or blaster burns. For the most part, the squadrons looked untouched. The last ship to land was Poe’s black and orange T-70. 

The second the x-wing was stopped, Poe all but threw himself from the cockpit, shucking his helmet off and chucking it at the ground. BB-8’s body blurred as the droid tried to keep up with his long, quick strides. His eyes met Leia’s first, immediately spurning his feet to turn in her direction. When he eventually realized you were also next to her, his eyes all but physically set you on fire. 

You held your breath as he crossed the runway. Poe looked downright  _ dangerous,  _ he was so angry. Leia noticed this too, but did not change her demeanor as she waited patiently for him to come to her, hands clasped behind her back. 

“Mission report, Commander Dameron,” she said. 

“Can we discuss this somewhere else?” Poe asked as he stopped walking, finally reaching his destination. BB-8 rolled up a second later. His eyes flicked to yours.

“We can, but the Doctor will be there regardless.” 

Poe wanted to scream. 

“The mission went as smoothly as expected. We were met with no First Order resistance or ambush as we docked and investigated the cargo ship.” 

“And what did you find?”

Poe took a deep breath, calming his heartbeat that was deafening in his ears. His fists clenched and unclenched, and unfortunately the thread was still there. Except this time, it was pulled taught between your bodies when it usually sagged with slack. 

“We found spice, General.” 

_ Oh.  _

Maybe you did believe in some higher power. There had to be someone pulling the strings behind this scenario. You wanted to laugh, point your finger and tell him ‘ _ told you so’.  _ But you didn’t, because the tension and anger in Poe’s body was so apparent that it looked like he was a chain pulled so tight it wasn’t a matter of  _ if,  _ but _ when  _ he would snap. 

So you settled for pursing your lips very tightly. 

“Nothing else to report?” Leia questioned. 

Poe shook his head. 

“I’m glad you all made it back safe,” she said, putting her hand on Poe’s shoulder. “It was one mission, Poe. There will be other opportunities.” 

He nodded, not meeting her eyes as Leia took her leave. The two of you stood in intolerable silence and you weren’t sure why Poe didn’t immediately sprint off as soon as Leia left. 

“I’m glad everyone made it back safely,” you spoke slowly, offering a metaphorical olive branch. 

Poe cocked his head, eyes narrowing as he met yours. You braced yourself, waiting for him to maybe pull out his blaster and take you out on the spot. 

“Save it,” he said, though his voice didn’t hold the venom you expected. “Do you want me to tell you that you were right?” 

You shrugged. “Not required, but I’m not against it.” 

He did not accept your poor attempt at lightening the mood. Instead, he sighed deeply and dragged a hand down his face. 

“I look like a complete  _ joke _ . Making such a big deal out of this whole operation, only to be completely and utterly wrong.” He laughed dryly, and you tried not to wince. 

“But you know who was  _ right?  _ A fucking medic. The holier-than-thou doctor who doesn’t ever leave her medbay, but the one time she does she completely undermines  _ everything _ .” 

Of course, it was your fault. Poe didn’t want to face the fact that his lack of patience and impulsiveness had forced him and his whole squadron to investigate a cargo ship full of spice. Against your better judgement, you let him continue his diatribe. He continued, berating your position, your lack of expertise and inability to, how did he put it?  _ Stay out of matters that don’t pertain to you _ . He seemed to have forgotten the minute detail that Holdo had asked for you to be there, even though you reminded him of that fact last night.

After a ridiculous amount of time, Poe eventually stopped to catch his breath. As soon has he did, he tried to continue. 

“Not to mention - “ 

You cut him off. “Are you done?” 

He narrowed his eyes. “I could go on all day.” 

You crossed your arms. “I’m sure you could. Because you absolutely have the right to completely tear me down when we met for the first time a couple days ago.” 

“I’ve heard enough about you,” Poe countered.

“As have I,” you clenched your jaw. “Your reputation precedes your rank, Dameron. You really think you’re going to earn respect and trust around the base when you’re running through every female here? You think that speaks well of your character? You think that’s  _ Commander  _ behavior?” 

Poe interlaced his hands on the top of his head as he laughed at you incredulously. 

“I can’t even stand to breathe the same air as you right now,” Poe said.

_ How fucking immature.  _ You narrowed your eyes. “Then stop breathing.” 

At your words, the red thread tightened around your finger painfully. So tight, it felt as though it was about to cut through and remove the finger entirely. Your other hand rubbed at your finger - desperately, futilely trying to loosen the string.

Poe watched your action, and then sucked in a breath through his teeth as he grasped as his own pinky in pain. He noticed his movements mirrored yours.

“Wha-” he paused. “Wait - “ Two pieces  _ clicked _ in Poe’s brain. 

But it didn’t matter, because you were already retreating, your steps quick and purposeful. You were fleeing back to the medbay and away from whatever was about to come out of Poe’s mouth. You couldn’t deal with it, not now and probably not ever. 

You didn’t miss the way his eyes watched your hands before watching his own, his forehead creasing with confusion, then what you hoped wasn’t realization. You didn’t think your actions obvious, but if he felt the same pain you did, it was impossible not to notice. 

_ Fuck, fuck, fuck,  _ your mind spiraled. Poe called your name, your  _ actual _ name, but you were too far gone and nothing short of the force would make you go back to him. 

This time, your interaction with Poe Dameron didn’t end with emptying your guts in the refresher, but by entering your office and  _ locking  _ it. 

Small victories. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wassup. i LOVE all the feedback I have been receiving!!! please continue!! also, if i made a playlist for this fic would y'all be interested? lmk. xoxo
> 
> also, i apologize for any typos i have no capacity for proof reading


	3. THREE // WRONG

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> UPDATED TO REVISE POE'S BACKSTORY - it has come to my attention that Poe's spice running backstory is racially insensitive and overall not canon to the star wars story, so I have rewritten to exclude it. Thanks!

**SAWBONES**

**THREE // WRONG**

Poe had worked his ass off for every title, credential, award, or accolade that he received. He earned Commander. He earned Black Leader. He was so good at what he did, at being a pilot. His skills, his fervor, his determination are why Leia got the heat off his back after the stint he pulled in recovering information from the Yissira Zyde.

His latest title differed only from the others in the fact that he gave it to himself.

_Biggest jackass in the galaxy._

If Poe had to admit he had a flaw, it would probably be that he was so _fucking_ stubborn. He could get so focused that anything in the peripheral of his latest fixation was blurred. He wasn’t concerned with collateral damage, not if it got the job done. But in this case, when it was actually _him_ in the wrong, when his inability to compromise not only hurt him but hurt you, he knew he had messed up.

Nobody told him this, of course. Poe had to come to terms with it on his own accord. Retiring to his quarters after his failed operation, dodging hands that were grabbing at his shoulders, his biceps, his wrists. He wasn’t interested in having a warm body next to him that night. He deserved to lay in his cot and deal with the chill his bones felt under the too-thin sheets. He deserved to lay in the darkness and finally come to terms with the thoughts that swam in his head, the ones he was getting really good at ignoring.

The way your forehead creased, face twisted and lips pursed as he said what he did to you were crystal clear. The way he referred to you as a _‘fucking medic’_ , completely undermining and disregarding your intelligence which you most definitely possessed in order to get to the position you currently held. But most of all, Poe couldn’t stop replaying how your face distorted when you’d gotten the last word, and the immediate sharp pain that radiated up his arm from his smallest digit that followed.

Poe’s reflexes were quick, though his mental acuity was not. It felt like someone had paused time on him while you were in fast forward.

He still wasn’t really sure what that whole ordeal was about. He had a small feeling tugging in his gut, and his gut was always right.

 _It wasn’t today,_ he told himself. Eventually, he knew he was going to be wrong. He’d ignored that fact for a while and was even starting to think he was the exception until a few hours ago. But a few hours ago he was wrong, and you were right and you both were rubbing your hands at the same time and he didn’t want to think too hard on why that was.

But he was lying in his cot, almost shivering beneath the too-thin sheets and he had nothing but time to think about it. His Grandfather’s words echoed in his head about what he called the ‘Red Thread of Fate’. He couldn’t get his Grandfather to talk about it enough. Besides wanting to follow in his mother’s footsteps, the other reason for Poe wanting to become a pilot was to travel the galaxy in search of whomever was tied to the other end. He’d been to countless planets in hopes that he would come near enough to them to be found. He couldn’t see the damn thing, and he spent every day until he was sixteen lamenting on that fact.

When he was sixteen, he joined the Spice Runners of Kijimi. Once he was finally out, finally traipsing the galaxy, the soulmate tether was exploited and ruined for him. Countless people had tried to fool him into thinking they were his soulmate, and sometimes he believed them. But slowly, he became desensitized and forced himself to stop thinking about the situation all together. 

So a few weeks ago, when that cute holographer he was warming his bed with tried to tell him that they were soulmates, he shut down. It had been so long since he had acknowledged it, but the wound still felt fresh and raw.

 _Anyways_ , to Poe, it was coincidence you both were rubbing your hands at the same time.

So convinced of this, in fact, that he was already leaving his quarters and trekking quietly to the place he knew he could find you. It was dark out, and as he crossed the runway to streamline his path right to the med bay, he had to stop to look up.

D’Qar wasn’t a small planet, but it always felt as though the stars were within reach at night. They felt so close, so visible in the atmosphere that Poe could hop in his x-wing and grab one. Maybe he’d give it to you. Maker knows you wouldn’t waste any time before taking it into a lab to analyze it. He quickly shook the thought of _giving you a fucking star_ from his head and continued his path.

He had only made it a few steps before noticing a dark figure sat above one of the massive hills the Resistance had carved into for their base. If not for the direct illumination from the stars and D’Qar’s two moons, he might’ve missed your silhouette completely. He began his slow trek up the side of the mound, approaching you cautiously.

If you knew he was there, you didn’t react. You leaned back on your hands, legs crossed at the ankles as you gazed at the constellations above. It made Poe stutter in his stride.

“Leave if you’re gonna talk, Dameron,” you said as he opened his mouth.

For once in his life, Poe Dameron stayed quiet.

He sat next to you, carefully easing himself back on his elbows. As much as he wanted to turn his head and commit how the starlight reflected on your features to memory, his head tilted up like yours.

So there the two of you sat, watching all the stars and all the nebulas and all the supernovas blink back. The galaxy was swirling tonight, and it felt like you and Poe were at the epicenter of it all. Maybe the galaxy did this when someone found their soulmate, Poe didn’t know. He scolded himself in his head for using the _s-word_.

“You can apologize now,” you broke the silence.

Poe kept himself from chuckling. “I don’t think there’s any apology I could use that would have you forgive me.”

He didn’t see it, but you rolled your eyes. “Ever the dramatic. You were just an ass. I’m sure it isn’t the first, nor the last time this will happen.”

He closed his eyes, biting the insides of his cheeks. He finally turned his head towards you and instant regret flushed his features.

“I’m sorry,” he said as sincerely as someone like Poe could. “It will probably happen again.”

You suppressed a small smile, meeting his gaze. “Accepted. Until next time.”

He nodded. “Fair.”

Another moment of silence passed as you held gazes until you turned your head back towards the atmosphere. Poe wanted to talk, wanted you to help him through the meteor field that was inside his brain, to sift through every thought. But nothing he could say right now would be worth breaking the peace right now.

So, once again, Poe Dameron stayed quiet.

You could basically hear him thinking, his face pinched deep in thought as he stared up with unseeing eyes. Was he thinking about that moment on the runway? The one where the both of you had acted in unison, only for Poe to realize too late? Maybe he hadn’t caught it, just thought your retreat was due to his spiteful words. You both knew that wasn’t true.

Whether or not either of you would bring it up was the true question.

“Is there a lot of talk about me around the base?” Poe asked, tone exposing his curiosity. He knew that you already had an opinion on him, felt that you had already made up your mind on what kind of man Poe was. What kinds of things you had heard, from engineers, holographers or even his own pilots was a constant.. _worry_? Not knowing kept him up at night. You didn’t know him, not really. And for some reason, that _bothered_ him. He wanted to change that. 

At his words, your thoughts drifted back to that day in the medbay when Ziff had told you about Poe’s sentiments on soulmates. You swallowed thickly.

“Nothing that reaches the medbay,” you lied. Poe didn’t buy it for a second.

“Sure, doc. You definitely don’t have one ear attuned to whatever whispers filter in from the hallway.”

Though you’d never admit it, you did feel isolated in your corner of the base. It often felt as though people would sooner gossip with Leia before you. You did engross yourself in your work, only leaving the medbay to sleep or to grab a meal. You didn’t make much of an effort, and you couldn’t blame anyone for not making one either.

“What have you heard about me?” Poe interrupted your thoughts.

“Just that you don’t tend to be alone most of the time.” You desperately wanted to change the subject.

“Does that make you think less of me, Doctor?” Poe’s voice was suddenly soft and your pinky throbbed. You knew better than to draw attention to it as Poe continued, “You mentioned my character, my reputation earlier. What _do_ you think of me?”

Poe didn’t really want to confirm what he already knew in his head.He ignored the throbbing in his left and his finger.

“We’re..uh,” you stumbled, “part of the Resistance. Both people of rank. It doesn’t matter what I think of you outside of your role as Commander.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“We don’t have to be friends, Dameron. All that matters is that we do our jobs.”

That was _cold._

Poe let the words dissolve into his skin, ride through his veins and drain right into his chest, constricting it. He cleared his throat as he stood, brushing off anything that may linger from what he thought was a night, or at the _very least_ a conversation that would end in a truce.

“Sorry for imposing on your night, Doctor,” Poe said. “I’ll see you around.”

Poe had built a mountain out of the hope he had left his quarters with. As he trudged back to his quarters for the second time that night, he felt it all crashing on top of him as if he were planted at the base. He was sixteen again, sitting in the grass next to you as he brought up running spice - cracking open the door for you in hopes that you would enter.

Maybe the trip to Kessel had skewed his brain, the jump to and from hyperspace leaving him scrambled. Maybe it actually was a coincidence that the two of you had rubbed your hands at the same time. If he couldn’t see it, that meant that you could. And if you didn’t mention it, well.

Poe Dameron was wrong. Twice.

✗ ✗ ✗

Leia had taken Poe off world to rub elbows with a couple of diplomats in Coruscant. It was much needed, seeing as there was no new First Order intel or any reason for him to fly his x-wing into oblivion.

She’d noticed he had been...off as of recent. He was highly aware of his surroundings, mostly just aware of _who_ he was around. Poe usually cracked his knuckles on a frequent basis, but she’d noticed he’d been providing more care to the smallest finger on his left hand.

Leia couldn’t see the red, but being force sensitive allowed her to see how a fraction of the air surrounding his hand seemed to almost blur. Not unlike how heat distorted the horizon on a particularly hot day in D’Qar. She knew what it meant though, saw the very same distortion around not only her right hand, but Han’s left.

She really wasn’t expecting to see it besiege the smallest finger on your right hand when she’d woken you in your office a few days prior.

She didn’t need much more than that and the inability for the two of you to have a civil conversation to connect the dots.

He stood at the wall to wall window that opened the ship to the galaxy outside, absentmindedly worrying that same finger Leia had been looking at. It was the newest addition of his little idiosyncrasies, not unlike how he rubbed his hand over his stubble, or extended his hand beside his hip to make sure BB-8 was within reach. Maybe it was him feeling a tendon in the right spot or his mind playing tricks on him, but sometimes he swore he could feel something cut through the skin.

Leia approached him until they stood side by side, looking out.

“I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of seeing this,” she began. “Reminds me what we’re fighting for.”

“If I could, I’d take off in my ship and never land,” Poe said quietly, finally dropping his hands to his side.

“Does your finger hurt?” Leia asked.

“Jammed it on the cargo ship when we went to Kessel. It’s fine.”

Leia nodded. “Unfortunate, nonetheless.”

Poe cleared his throat, eyes never straying from the scene before him.

“Can you see yours?”

Leia smiled softly. “No,” she answered. “Not in the way I’d like to.”

Poe was going through the five stages. He had been firmly set in denial following the time he spent with you on the hill. He’d psyched himself out, doubted his eyesight (which was hard, because..y’know. He was a pilot.) and reprimanded his brain for even coming up with such an unbelievable explanation.

Now? His jaw was set in anger. Angry at himself, at you, at whatever joke the galaxy thought it was making. He was bitter at the universe for constantly building him up, creating another possibility for Poe just to end up decimated. _Every single time._ Ultimately, Poe let it happen. _Every single time._

But why was he mad at you?

That old part of himself that Poe held on to - the starry eyed, illusory kid he used to be - wanted it to be you. Wanted you to be the one to break the cycle. But it wasn’t you. You barely considered him a friend. He should’ve asked you if you could see yours before leaving the conversation so dejected. He could’ve saved himself from spending the rest of that night sulking in his quarters, throwing himself deeper into despair when he got under those fucking sheets.

He needed more blankets. Maybe he could steal some from the medbay.

But that was almost a guarantee he’d run into you, and his pride was still recovering. He’d probably end up doing it anyway, mourning from a distance the best almost-soulmate he’d run into.

“What’s got Poe Dameron so quiet?” Leia asked, she couldn’t take his lamenting any longer. She didn’t need to be a jedi to hear Poe’s thoughts.

“I want to find them, Leia,” he began. “Whoever they are. _So bad._ I think the galaxy knows that I want it more than anything, and it’s purposely keeping them away.”

She watched him and from her initial lack of response, Poe backpedaled.

“Not more than defeating the First Order, of course. Finding them comes after.”

Leia rolled her eyes, knocking her shoulder against the side of his arm fondly. “You remind me of my brother.”

Poe laughed. “Good or bad?”

“It changes,” she shrugged. “But overall? Good. What makes you think you haven’t met them yet?”

Poe puckered his lips in thought. “If I had, why wouldn’t they have come forward?”

“Han didn’t tell me until we were married.”

“You married someone you knew wasn’t your soulmate?” Poe tried to hide his shock.

“I knew,” she answered. “Everything told me it was him. But he was Han, and thought it was funny to wait. Overall, Poe. I think you know.”

Poe closed his eyes, muttering to himself that “ _if it was that holographer from a few weeks ago, I’m fucked.”_

Leia turned around, leaving Poe by himself to stand by the window.

“Don’t overthink it,” she threw over her shoulder before disappearing into another part of the ship.

Poe was self-assured in every other aspect of his life except for this sliver, which at times seemed all encompassing. At Leia’s words, that small flicker of heat that he recognized as hope burned in his chest, and as much as he tried to extinguish it, it remained. Nestled itself in the lowest chamber of his heart where it would wait until _he knew_ , just like Leia said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a lot of you were begging for poe's pov so i really hoped this lived up to your expectations! a little shorter of an update, but there will be more plot in the next chapter, this was just some nice fluffy angsty filler. as always, feedback and love is encouraged and appreciated! xoxox


	4. FOUR // THE BALANCE

**SAWBONES**

**FOUR // THE BALANCE**

Poe had been off world for two weeks now, and your life had gotten easier. From a job standpoint. 

You’ve barely had any patients from the lack of flights leaving D’Qar. The only thing you’d dealt with was a nasty case of food poisoning and a torn meniscus from a pilot tripping over a hose in the hangar. 

Life was easy, but  _ Gods _ was it boring. 

Naturally, when you couldn’t keep your hands occupied your mind decided to take over. You weren’t sure what was worse - never finding your soulmate or actually finding them and lying to their face about it. Technically, you hadn’t lied to Poe. You’d dodged. It was on the tip of his tongue, his words on the cusp of ruining whatever moment you two were having under the stars, so you decided to ruin it first. You weren’t sure you could actually be friends with Poe, or even friendly. The thought of coming clean and actually informing him that he was your soulmate was even more terrifying. What if he didn’t believe you? Laughed - or  _ yelled _ \- in your face when you told him and ruined the base’s whole perspective of their head medic. 

It was something you couldn’t risk. 

You didn’t know if there was any recovering from what you’d done - a wound you couldn’t heal. You’d put the metaphorical blaster to the forehead of this whole situation and pulled the trigger. Having a happy ending seemed impossible after the irreparable damage you’d caused. Maybe Leia didn’t even want him off world. He just wanted to be  _ away _ from you. 

“Hey doc,” Jasti’s voice roused you. “Vice Admiral Holdo requests you in the briefing room.” 

You nodded, and your lack of response had her furrowing her eyebrows. 

“You good? Medbay’s been kinda quiet since your favorite Commander has been gone,” she teased. “The whole base has been missing him and General Organa. The atmosphere isn’t the same.”

Rolling your eyes, you shrugged on your white coat, buttoning it up to your neck. “I do  _ not  _ miss him.”

“You miss the work he indirectly gives you.” 

“I don’t want any of you to in the medbay in the first place,” you frowned. 

“But you’re  _ bored,” _ Jasti drew out the last syllable. 

“That I cannot argue,” you said as the two of you left your office and made the trek across base. 

In the first minute or so of your walking, you could actually feel the demeanor change as you weaved your way through the underground hallways. Everyone seemed stagnant, the base itself dormant. It was as though everyone forgot how to function without knowing Poe or Leia were nearby. It made you roll your eyes again. 

“Hey, so Ziff saw a weird exchange between the two of you the day before Commander Dameron left,” Jasti said nonchalantly. 

“You and Ziff, huh?” you tried to steer the conversation away from her. 

Jasti scratched the top of her head as she shrugged. “We get along.” 

“Love in my medbay,” you said faux-dreamily. “Who would’ve thought.” 

She shouldered you, “Quit deflecting!” You couldn’t hold back your smile. The banter was nice, welcomed, but still felt different. 

_ ‘Cause it’s not with Poe _ , you thought to yourself as you bit the inside of your cheek. 

“It looked like you two were arguing, and then you stormed off. He said the body language was weird but couldn’t describe it.” 

“He’s a pompous ass,” you said as the two of you rounded another corner. The both of you could’ve cut across the runway, but you’d been keeping your distance from it. You didn’t want to be caught outside whenever Leia and Poe arrived back. Amongst other reasons. 

“He’s an  _ attractive _ , pompous ass,” Jasti supplied with a smile. “That stubble he’s been sporting is downright  _ sinful _ .” You just barely stopped yourself from nodding in agreement. 

“Can you imagine how it feels against your skin, kissing him? Or, dare I say, how it feels against the  _ insides of your thighs-” _

You were the one to shoulder her this time, your destination at the end of the hallway. “I love girl talk, I really do, but not about him.” 

You reached the door to the briefing room and you turned around to face Jasti, door to your back. 

“Don’t think the whole base doesn’t feel the tension,” she winked. “Just fuck and get it over with. It’s not like you’re soulmates.”

Your face blanched and you prayed to whatever power above that she did not notice. 

Nobody was listening, or maybe they were on a break because Jasti’s eyes about detached themselves from her eye socket. 

“You’re  _ fucking kidding!”  _

You turned around quickly, offering a quick apology and ushering yourself into the room. Jasti’s relentless laughter was muffled when the door closed behind you. Holdo and Ackbar stood in their usual spots around the table, and a few others littered the room as well. Leia stood tall from the middle of the table, static crinkling her form every occasional moment. 

“Happy to see you,” She said as you entered the room, using your first name. You hadn’t heard it in so long it felt foreign vibrating against your eardrum. You were just ‘doc’ now. You returned the greeting and continued your path to stand next to Holdo. 

You didn’t really listen as Leia, Holdo and Ackbar discussed the diplomatic relations with Coruscant. You didn’t care for politics, which was why you’d picked what you thought was the most neutral profession in the galaxy. 

“And of you, Commander Dameron?” Ackbar’s gruff voice drew your eyes up from staring at the buttons on your coat to the holotable. 

“They’ve agreed to offer us air support,” he said, his hands behind his back. “A few of their leaders will be arriving to D’Qar in the next week or so to be trained.” 

Ackbar grunted his approval and to your surprise, Poe turned his attention to you. 

“I’ll need these pilots to be screened when they arrive, Doctor,” Poe began, and despite the blue tint from the hologram, you still felt the weight of his brown eyes. “Vitals, medical history, physicals. No prior exhaustions or fevers post flights,” he said, the corners of his mouth quirking upwards. 

You rolled your eyes at his jab but allowed your mouth to mirror his. “I can do my job, Commander.” 

“Just checking.”

It was if he’d forgotten your cold, apathetic words to him before he left. You weren’t complaining, didn’t want the unspoken tension between the two of you to make itself known to those around you. You did, however, have the inkling Leia had caught on.

“When will you be back?” Holdo spoke. 

“Tomorrow evening at the earliest,” Poe responded. 

He’d been gone for two weeks, and for something that had felt like eternity but also  _ not long enough _ . When he was here, even just on base, made you feel cloudy. Ever since you’d realized his tether was connected to yours. When he was gone, you could breathe, think. Even if every thought was about him.

The meeting continued, pertaining more towards Coruscant’s support and what other planets the Resistance had in their sights. You continued to zone out until Leia and Poe had bid farewell, and unbeknownst to you, Poe’s eyes had been on you until the hologram cut. 

So, he wasn’t mad at you? You tried to reason his behavior as you walked back to your office. He could’ve been curt, callous. Just like he was when he’d left you atop the hill that night. You definitely deserved for him to be short with you, but for him to act as though nothing had happened threw you in for a loop. Maybe he didn’t know. Maybe he hadn’t actually caught your mirrored actions, didn’t feel the same stab from the finger that shot up the arm. 

_ Maybe you’d been a bitch for no reason. _

The thought made your stomach sour, and you decided maybe you’d pass on dinner. It was early evening, but time was finicky on D’Qar. The stars came out early and left late, the two moons seeming to always balance distantly in the sky. The outside of the base was dipped in an azure hue as you looked outside. Instead of taking the usual right to the medbay, you decided to go left to your quarters. 

You’d slept in your office last night and were in desperate need of a shower. As the whoosh of the hydraulics opened the door, you walked inside quickly. 

Your quarters were bare and very much reflected the little time you spent here. Scattered papers on the table pressed against the wall to your left, a small kitchenette to your right. You walked further in, discarding your white coat on the table and collapsing on your bed. 

The refresher called your name, but exhaustion overwhelmed your system as you moved up to rest your head against the pillow. You hadn’t even bothered to take off your shoes. 

… 

_ In the dark, you could feel a shadow looming over you. You opened your eyes, barely lifting your head from the pillow to squint at the figure.  _

_ “Dameron?” you whispered, voice thick with sleep. You could make out the outline of his curls, the orange pilot jumper tied around his waist. “You’re not supposed to be back until tomorrow?” _

_ He didn’t respond, still standing over you.  _

_ “How’d you find my quarters?” you asked, brows furrowing. Sometimes even you forgot where it was.  _

_ “Stop talking,” his voice was deep, throaty. It must’ve been late, had he been sleeping too? _

_ “You talk too  _ fucking  _ much,” he began, dropping a knee to your bed. You pushed yourself up on your elbow, pushing yourself away from his frame.  _

_ “Never listening.” He leaned forward to press a calloused palm to the side of your face. You were too confused, frozen, maybe even aroused to pull away.  _

_ His thumb slowly swept back and forth over your cheekbone. Your face was hot, a stark juxtaposition to his cold hand.  _

_ “Poe,” you started. “What are you - “ _

_ He lowered his thumb to sit on your bottom lip, slowly prod between your teeth.  _

_ “What did I say?” He leaned even closer on his knee, the very tip of his thumb against your tongue, the rest of his fingers spanning against the side of your neck. You were now acutely aware of the white tank top and black leggings you were wearing, what you typically wore under your long white coat.  _

_ You remained quiet, the curiosity within you encompassing the confusion. You swear you could feel the cut of the red thread against your throat, your collar bone and your breasts as the string traveled to your right hand, currently gripping the sheet beneath you.  _

_ Your left arm currently supporting your frame wavered as his face came close, breath hitting the curve of your right ear.  _

_ “Missed you so much,” he said, lips brushing your skin. You visibly shuddered and you could feel his lips pull. “Two weeks away from you, and all I could think about was the distance between us. Counting down each second until I was back.” _

_ He removed his thumb, tracing it over your top and bottom lip. The pressure from his fingers on your neck pushed you back until you were flush against the mattress.  _

_ Why weren’t you saying anything? Resisting? You don’t think you could’ve, even if you’d wanted to. Poe had you in a trance, like you’d had a hit of spice before you’d dozed off. It felt like you had. The very few times you’d smoked spice had left you very warm and very, very  _ frustrated. 

_ “I think it’s time for someone to take care of  _ you, _ doc,” Poe said. He now sat halfway on the bed, one leg still pressed to the floor. His hand on your neck trailed down, fingers brushing against your collar bones and teasing the swell of your breasts until they diverted to brush down your right arm. His hand grasped your own, and the bite of the string cutting into your skin sent goosebumps up your spine.  _

_You could swear you felt him strumming it, the string now only mere centimeters long when you used to watch it stretch for what seemed like lightyears. A funny feeling knotted in your stomach, feeling your pulse in the base of your throat. How could you -_ why would you - _lie to this man? Avoid telling him you’re soulmates when it could give you_ this?

_ “Do you know?” you asked breathlessly, his lips now skimming the column of your throat as his left hand intertwined with your right. It felt like the red thread had now weaved it’s way between each and every one of your fingers - entwining yours to his. “Did you figure it out?”  _

_ He moved to kiss your carotid, the point on your neck that was beating wildly.  _

_ Strangely though, you couldn’t feel it - even though every nerve ending was attuned, waiting for the contact that never came.  _

_ You frowned, reaching your free hand up to thread it through his curls.  _

_ “Poe?” _

Your hand cut through the air as your eyes flew open, your quarters dark save for the starlight shining through the small, horizontal window. 

Realizing what had just happened, you pressed the palms into your eyes. Hard. 

_ “Fuck me,”  _ you groaned. 

  
  


✗ ✗ ✗

“You look unwell,” FX-7 remarked as the droid entered your office. 

After your, uh, dream? If that’s what you were to call it? You couldn’t fall back asleep even if you wanted to. And a small part of you  _ did _ want to, in hopes that the fantasy would pick up where it left off. 

So you’d opted instead for a very long, very cold shower. Afterwards, you lied motionless in your bed, staring at the ceiling and pretending you couldn’t feel the dip where you had imagined Poe’s knee was. You stayed like that until dawn. 

And maybe you’d snuck some breakfast and sat on that same hill where Poe had found you weeks before until who knows when. You laid back, eating absentmindedly as you watched the two moons shift slowly in the sky above. 

Now, you were sure it was afternoon at the earliest. You couldn’t really recount the last several hours, your mind numb but buzzing at the same time. Was the universe saying something - pushing on the very thing you’re resisting? Maybe you weren’t supposed to go against forces you knew nothing about, shouldn’t trifle with the ways of the universe. Your intrusive illusion answered your thoughts. 

Tonight, when he returned...you’d tell him. 

You sorted the empty vials FX-7 had left on your desk, writing them down in your notebook in order to restock them. You looked up from your desk at the droid still lingering in the doorway. 

“Anything else?” You asked, turning your attention back to the empty tube in your hand. 

“Commander Dameron has been gone for two weeks. I see it has taken a toll.” 

You glared up at FX-7. “What  _ toll?  _ I’m  _ fine.” _

The droid remained motionless and you shifted in your seat. Gods, why did everyone have to be on your case?

“The patient with food poisoning was discharged this morning. You need to finish the paperwork. 

You nodded. “Thanks, FX-7,” you said sincerely, sure he picked up on the inflection of your voice. As per usual, the droid left without a word. 

You’d only had a couple minutes of silence, finishing restock and beginning on the discharge papers when Jasti flew into your doorway.

“Doc -” she panted, bent over with her hands on her knees. “Runway. We gotta go. Now.” 

She moved over to your side in a few quick steps, tugging on your wrist and pulling you out the door just as quickly as she arrived. She pulled you down the hallway and you stumbled over your feet, struggling to keep her pace without breaking into a jog. 

“Jasti, what the hell?” you pulled at your wrist that she still held. 

“Poe just got back.”

You planted your feet firmly, stopping her midstride. “I don’t want to see him."

Jasti looked at you, her brows knitting almost...apologetically? You couldn’t place it.

Your resistance faded as she dropped your wrist and continued her path, you following shortly behind. Her sudden change in behavior made the blood in your veins turn viscous. Just a few more turns and the both of you had exited the underground base and were out in the open, making your way onto the runway. It wasn’t quite nightfall yet, the sun holding steady but low in the sky. You hadn’t had time to admire the almost sunset when Poe’s loud, boisterous laugh had you turning your head in his direction. He was leaning against the docked ship he’d left on, surrounded by several of his pilots. You’d recognized all their faces, but could only name Ziff. 

“It was the craziest thing,” you heard Poe remark as you and Jasti neared closer. “I was at Dealer’s Den, y’know, in the old galactic market?” A few of the pilots nodded their heads and hummed in agreement when you knew damn well they didn’t. Hardly anyone was as well traveled as Poe Dameron. 

“So, the most beautiful woman strolls up to me and pretends to trip so I catch her,” he shrugs, “and with my reflexes, of course I do.”

You roll your eyes, turning to look at Jasti with a scowl on your face. She shakes her head and nods at Poe, silently telling you to  _ listen _ . 

_ "Never listening," _ Poe’s husky voice rang in your head, sending a shiver down your spine. You swallowed and turned your attention back to the Commander. 

“She tells me, ‘ _ I’m so sorry! I must’ve tripped over the thread that ties us together.’” _

You almost throw up. 

The pilots around him cheer, punching Poe in the shoulder as he beams. He laughs off the blush creeping up his neck and continues with his story, but you’re unsure you want to hear anymore. 

“She’s one of Coruscant’s best pilots. She’ll be coming here in the coming weeks to train,” he winks. The small crowd continues to hum around him and Jasti touches your shoulder gingerly. 

You can’t help but look down at your right hand, at your own thread that led to Poe. You were half expecting it to have vanished, prove to be some figment of your imagination, or your loneliness. But no, it was there. Tied tightly to your finger. 

Did the universe mess up? Could there actually be someone with two soulmates? 

You turned to Jasti, confusion etched on your face and she shrugged as though she’d heard your thoughts. 

To rub more salt in the wound, Poe just so happened to realize your presence as you went to walk away. 

“Doc!” He called, pushing himself off of the aircraft and pushing through the pilots. You turned back around to face him, your face tight as you ignored the tightness in your chest. 

“Commander,” you acknowledged him. “Welcome back.”

He laughed off your very professional greeting. “Happy to be back.”

Poe was practically  _ glowing _ . 

“Did’ya come to the runway to see me?” he raised an eyebrow. You swallowed thickly, shaking your head. 

“I have business to discuss with General Organa,” you lied swiftly. “But I see that I’ve already missed her.”

“Yeah, she just headed off to further debrief Holdo and Ackbar. I’m actually heading that way if you wanna come with?”

_ You’d sooner die _ . “No thanks,” you barely managed to upturn one corner of your mouth. “I’ll find her later.” 

Jasti watched the whole conversation with a frown on her face. By the time Poe could notice her expression, you were already retreating from the runway like you’d already done previously. To be honest, you were getting pretty good at fleeing from Poe. 

You couldn’t help yourself from thinking that perhaps the universe wasn’t pushing you to tell Poe. Maybe it was actually  _ punishing  _ you. Telling you that you were  _ too late.  _

But this is what you got, what you deserved. You messed with the balance of the universe, and now the scales were tipped against you. You could wallow, pity yourself all you wanted but a man like Poe Dameron didn’t stay available for long. Whether or not he knew he was yours was beside the point. You’d had him, but you had bitched out of actually confronting something head on. Now look what happened. 

He belonged to someone else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hehehehe dont hate me! kudos and feedback appreciated like usual. xoxo


	5. FIVE // WRONG CONVERSATION

**SAWBONES**

**FIVE // WRONG CONVERSATION**

“I’m gonna tell him.”

“You’re not gonna tell him.”

Jasti looked at you bitterly as she stabbed at...whatever was on her metal tray. The two of you were having lunch, or at least trying to. You rarely visited the base’s cafeteria, opting to just grab your meals and go, but you decided socialization might be good for you. Get your mind off things. And it was good, until Poe and a couple pilots from Red squadron walked in and were now sitting two tables behind you, directly in Jasti’s eye line as she sat across from you. 

“Tell who what?” Ziff asked as he sat down next to Jasti, accompanied by another engineer whose name you could not remember. 

“Doctor,” he nodded to you, and at your hesitation he supplied his name. “D’an Ralac. Blue squad calls me six, ‘cause uh, I’m Blue Six.”

You nodded back at him, still picking at your own food as Jasti seethed across from you, 

“Seriously, tell who what?” Ziff tried again. 

“Commander Dameron’s soulmate is a fake,” Jasti aggressively shoved her forkful of food into her mouth. Ziff turned to you, eyebrows raised as Race silently began eating his meal. 

“There’s no way, he wouldn’t believe it unless he was absolutely sure.”

“Maybe he’s just stupid,” Jasti muttered and you kicked her shin under the table, earning you another bitter stare. 

“I don’t see what the big deal is. It’s not like you’re his actual soulmate, right?” Ziff tried to laugh off his question, but voiced his concern subtly when he looked at Jasti and repeated, “Right?”

Jasti’s glowering caused her to  _ completely  _ miss the tone of Ziff’s voice, and you restrained yourself from kicking at her again. Just because your relationship was officially in the compactor does not mean that hers had to be, too. 

“She’s overreacting,” you told him, bringing your water to your lips. 

“You’re underreacting,” Jasti replied incredulously. “Are you kidding me?”

Your foot met her shin again on its own accord. “Keep your voice down!” you warned her, though you knew the boisterous laughter coming from Poe and his table made it impossible to overhear their conversation. 

“There’s something going on you two aren’t saying,” Six spoke.

“We know who his soulmate is,” Jasti’s voice was finally neutral, though the expression on her face was  _ begging _ you to come clean to the table. “And it’s not that pilot from Coruscant.”

Ziff, in his surprise, slammed his hands on the table. Hard. “Are you kidding? We have to tell him!”

You winced at the sound which,  _ of course _ , interrupted the laughing from the table two behind you. The newfound silence that befell the cafeteria, coupled with the widening of Jasti’s eyes made your stomach absolutely flip. 

“Blue Two,” you cringed when you heard Poe’s voice behind you, “you alright?” 

Ziff’s eyes mirrored Jasti’s. “Uh,” he cleared his throat. “Yes, Commander! Impressed with the kitchen staff on how they prepared the fried prog today!” 

You eyed the prongs on your fork, noting the durability and sharpness. If you were to stab the utensil into the side of your neck to hit your carotid, or in one of your intercostal spaces to pierce your lung, which would kill you quicker? If you went lung, you’d be dealing with tension pneumothorax, and ultimately would be waiting for the compression on your heart to lead to cardiac arrest. The whole ordeal would take around half an hour, whereas bleeding out of your carotid would take maybe 10 minutes. If you did either, you hoped FX-7 would take pity and let you wither away. 

Ziff gave you a wink at what he thought was a great response and you begrudgingly put your fork down. You spared a glance over your shoulder to peek at Poe. 

The table directly behind you was empty, allowing you a clear view of Dameron and his crew. Poe was sitting in your same position, and offered you a slight smirk when the two of you made eye contact. You hid your scowl by turning around.

“Y’should give your compliments back there,” Dameron said. “I’m sure they’d appreciate it.”

Ziff nodded immediately. “Yes, Commander.” Maybe you’d stick the fork in  _ his _ lung.

After a beat of time, Poe’s table returned to their previous conversations and Jasti turned to Ziff. You watched as she flexed her right fist, and you weren’t sure if it was to restrain her arm from jutting her elbow into his side or something  _ else.  _ You hadn’t had time to think about it before she was once again giving you a pleading expression. 

You returned a flat look, blinking at her. She took it as reluctant acceptance. 

“Y’know how Doc here can see her string, right?” Jasti began, her voice lowered. Six obviously didn’t, but he nodded anyway just to be included. She paused, looking at Ziff pointedly. 

He nodded at her again, still maintaining eye contact. “Yes, I was present for that conversation. And?” 

Jasti gave him the same blank look until the table could hear the gears in his head finally turn. You were pretty sure that Six had understood right away, judging by the way his lips pursed as he slowly let out the breath he was holding. 

“You’re  _ fucking kidding _ !”

Jasti laughed as she lightly bumped her elbow into Ziff’s side. “That’s what I said!” 

You resumed poking at your tray. Unlike Ziff, you were  _ not _ impressed by the fried porg. 

“How long have you known?” He asked. 

“Since the day I met you two in the med bay,” you murmured. It sounded way worse when you said it aloud. 

“Doc, that’s been  _ weeks. _ You’ve kept this from Commander Dameron?” 

You nodded. “I didn’t think he’d believe me, and I was waiting for the right time. But it never came, and when it almost did I work-zoned him. And then he went and left for  _ stupid _ Coruscant and met that  _ stupid  _ pilot that I have to do  _ stupid  _ paperwork on. They sent over her file this morning, and I looked at her measurements. I’m a little pissed.”

The table let you rant, this was the most you’d probably talked in one beat and they didn’t want to interrupt. They knew you needed to get it all out. 

“So yeah, I fucked up,” you admitted. “And it’s way too late to do anything about it, because the damage has been done and I just need to get over it.” 

You heard someone let out a low whistle from behind you and the hairs on your arms stood on end. 

“That’s not very Doctor-like of you,” Poe said as he came up behind you and stood at the edge of your table. You reluctantly looked up to meet his gaze. “You’re supposed to fix damage, not cause it, right?” 

The taunt was harmless, playful even. But since Poe had been boasting non-stop about his soulmate, and the fact that she’d be here within the coming days left you angry and raw. You felt like an exposed nerve, every touch and breath felt like an assault on your entire being. You’d kept your interactions with Poe at an absolute minimum, keeping him at arm's length. If you felt callow and bare now, imagine how hard it was to restrain it when he was talking to  _ you _ about  _ her.  _

“We all make mistakes. Surely you know that, don’t you Dameron?” 

He narrowed his eyes, the faint upturn of his lips turning sour. You hated when he looked at you like that, with contempt. Like the thought of you left a bad taste in his mouth. He should be looking at you like he probably looks at her, laughing with you like he did with his table, touching you and putting his fingers in your mouth like he had in your dream. 

_ Dream, _ you repeat to yourself firmly. You’d be lying if you said that dream wasn’t the only reason you were able to fall asleep most nights. 

But this look that he was giving you right now was something that you deserved. Why would he treat you any different, treat you like his soulmate when he didn’t fucking know? He was too busy deluding himself that his soulmate was on Coruscant, counting the days until she was to arrive on D’Qar when in all actuality it was you, the woman sitting at this stupid metal table berating him, that was his soulmate. 

“Maybe I need to come into the medbay for a check up,” he scratched at the scruff on his chin that you definitely had not fixated on these past couple days, “I must need to get a brain scan done since you’re so concerned with these helpful  _ reminders.” _

“Door’s always open,” you said with a sweet smile. The two of you held each other’s gaze for another few moments before Poe finally broke it with an eye roll. He nodded at the rest of your table. 

“Have a good rest of your lunch, if you can,” Poe withheld his side glance back to you, “Glad you like the porg, Blue Two.”

With that, Poe was finally the one fleeing. 

“Stars, you didn’t need to be a  _ bitch _ to him!” Jasti kicked your shin this time. “Could you dig the hole you’re in any deeper?” 

“Probably,” you offered. Jasti let out a groan as she rested her head on her arms on the table. Ziff and Six looked at you, puzzled. 

“Don’t know why you did all that,” Six started. “Why further the animosity? Are you hoping for the thread to snap?” 

You turned your attention to the green-tinged man to your right. “Can it do that?” 

He shrugged, taking a small sip of his blue milk. “I’ve heard rumors, basically myths about it. If a soulmate dies, or gives up on the search, the thread will break. I don’t know if it can by the sheer power of will. You’re on your way to finding out, though.” 

You frowned. “I don’t know what I want.”

Jasti threw her crumpled up napkin at your forehead. “You want  _ him!  _ Soulmate or not, that little squabble had some tension of the sexual kind to it.”

“Poe has sexual tension with everything,” you rolled your eyes. “The man reeks of it.” Ziff nodded in agreement and you gave him a weird look. It made you wonder what life looked like under Poe’s command. Especially for someone like Ziff. Six had also mirrored your expression, which made you feel a  _ little _ bit better. Or worse. You really didn’t know. 

Ziff was smart, talented and you were pretty sure he put all of that into being a pilot. He was tall, broad and his sandy blonde hair made many of the women on the base turn their heads. However, he only had eyes for his x-wing. That was, until a few weeks ago when he and Jasti had been side by side in your medbay. Now, Ziff had eyes for Jasti  _ and _ his x-wing. 

“I think you should just tell him,” Six shrugged. “What’s the worst that could happen? He doesn’t believe you?” 

“Yes?” you said. “And he humiliates me, discredits my position and authority across the base. How is anyone going to come into my medbay and not look at me like I was another poor girl who made up the soulmate thread to bed Dameron?” 

“But you didn’t make it up,” Ziff frowned. “It’s true.” 

“How am I supposed to prove that?” 

The table fell silent, Jasti Ziff and Six all deep in thought. You gave them a minute, but your patience was wearing thin. You’d been out of the medbay for too long, and FX-7 was sure to let you know that as soon as you got back. 

“Thanks guys, but I really can’t do this right now,” you offered them a weak smile. You grabbed your tray as you got up from the table. Jasti opened her mouth to stop you, but fell silent. You dumped your food and placed the tray on the conveyor.

✗ ✗ ✗

As per usual, you were back in your office sorting through the mountains of files on your holopad. Specifically, you were sorting through files for the new incoming pilots from Coruscant. Five, to be exact. Physiologically speaking, they were all perfect. Maybe you’d get lucky when they got here and you’d have to ground one or two for high blood pressure or a heart murmur. You found yourself constantly going back to one file, though. Of the five, two were female. Yet one was human and the other Togruta. You’d heard a tale of one of Poe’s many escapades involving a Togruta woman that had not ended well, so you decided on the human. 

Scoria Tane. 

_ Fuck, _ even her name was pretty. You honestly were dreading her arrival in the coming days. Coruscant had been vague, giving the generals a time frame of arrival for the pilots. D’Qar and Coruscant did have different orbital periods and hours in the day, so you understood why you didn’t know an exact date. It added to your anxiety nonetheless. 

In spare moments of time, you found yourself lapsing back to her tab. No photo, just the basic demographics. Although your mind wanted to inch there, you refused to compare her measurements to your own. A dangerous place, that was. A place you didn’t,  _ couldn’t  _ enter. 

“Strange to find you here,” soft footsteps preceded the voice. “Do you usually linger here for long periods of time?” 

“You’re very funny,” you lifted your head, hoping Leia wouldn’t notice you move  _ Scoria Tane _ ’s file off your screen. The voice in your head said her name like a slur. 

“Someone has to be,” she smiled at you, lowering herself into one of the seats across from your desk. “It’s so...tense here. And I think to myself,  _ tense _ ? In  _ my _ resistance base?” 

“Blasphemy, I agree,” you couldn’t repress your wide smile. 

“You wouldn’t happen to know why it’s tense around here, would you, Doctor?”

“I’m afraid not,” you answered honestly. “Pilots haven’t been out in awhile. I’m sure they’re just antsy.” 

“You say pilots, as in plural,” Leia raised an eyebrow. You furrowed yours. 

“Yes?”

“You’re the funny one now. I happen to think it’s just because of one pilot in particular.” 

You powered down your holopad as you placed it back in your drawer. “I’m not sure what you mean?” 

Leia gazed at the wall, a soft smile on her face as though she were gazing out a window. Yet, nearly the entire Resistance base on D’Qar was underground so windows were not an option. You liked to assume that’s why they built your medbay so white and.. _ bright _ . Create an atmosphere of pseudo-sunlight. She continued to gaze for a few more seconds until she returned her attention back to you. 

“Your right hand, has it been bothering you, lately?” 

“Occasionally,” you admitted. There was no use in hiding anything from Leia. 

“I understand why you’ve kept it from him,” she folded her hands in her lap, “but what has it cost you?” 

You bit the inside of your cheeks, releasing a deep breath that felt like you’d been holding for days. Leia had opened the floodgates, uncorked the bottle that you’d been stuffing this whole situation into. You felt the air of the room sting your eyes, or was it something else? Ignoring it, you pulled at your right pinky finger on top of your desk. 

“Peace of mind,” you answered, then laughed. “My sleep.”

“He was  _ so close _ to figuring it out,” Leia frowned. “I gave him a push, figured that would be all he would need. I should’ve known better - men almost always need you to spell it out for them.” 

“Do you think I’m too late?” 

Leia shook her head. “No, but you’ve certainly created yourself quite the challenge.”

Leia was right, reiterating what your friends had told you previously. Not only was it a feat in and of itself just to talk to Poe, but to change his mind? Especially about her, about  _ Scoria Tane _ ? To convince him that he’d been wrong - again? And that your callous words and strained relationship that you’d created with him was only because you were scared, and insecure. 

As if she could hear them, Leia interrupted your thoughts. 

“He’s more sensible than you think.” 

“Respectfully,” you began, “have you been in the same room as the two of us? The way Poe interprets my words and opinions would not justify him as sensible.” 

Leia rolled her eyes. “That’s because the two of you are always having the  _ wrong _ conversation.”

“And what’s the right one?” you pressed. 

“You think I would tell you?” Leia smirked at you as she stood. “That would be too easy. You have a couple seconds to figure it out though.” 

As soon as you processed her words, Poe was entering your office, the whoosh of the double doors preceding his entrance. His stupid beautiful teeth shone under the fluorescent bulbs when he saw Leia. He regarded her warmly after she winked at you and made her leave. 

As much as you repressed, you couldn’t ignore how fucking good Poe looked in his casual clothes. He looked good in anything - but today was just...too much. He was wearing his usual dark pants, loose enough to be comfortable and to move in, but still tight on his ass. He must’ve changed after eating, because the faded baby blue button up he wore with the sleeves pushed up to his elbows was a shirt you hadn’t seen, or at least noticed before. With the way the lightness of his shirt juxtaposed the black of his hair, his stubble, his eyes - you were sure it was new. There’s no way you would’ve missed it before. However, the subtle, almost pleasant softness that befell his features was something you did almost miss, though. 

“Hey, Doc,” Poe sat down. You didn’t respond - not verbally, anyway. Your breath was caught in your throat as your eyes focused on the small, gold chain that hung around his neck and low on his chest. Your eyes traced the way it arched over the curve of his collarbones and disappeared past the neckline of his shirt. Poe cleared his throat again and your eyes left his chest to meet his eyes. 

“Here for your scan?” you asked nonchalantly as you pulled your holopad back out of the drawer, giving yourself something to fidget with. 

He shook his head. “Just wanted to know how the new recruits are looking.” 

“All of them, or just one in particular?” you arched one of your eyebrows, your finger hovering over her tab. 

He smiled, shrugging. It made you simultaneously want to gag and rip your clothes off. The buttoned collar of your medjacket felt like it was constricting on your airways as you swallowed thickly. 

“Can I ask you a question, Dameron?” you gripped the holopad tightly. At your sudden seriousness, Poe rectified his posture and nodded. 

“How did you,” you wanted to stab yourself, “How did you know? That it was her?”

You braced yourself, expecting him to lash at you, tell you it was none of your business. But when he didn’t, when he licked his lips slowly as he pondered his answer, it made you wish he would’ve. His response wasn’t one you wanted to hear, but you needed to know his reasoning. 

“I can’t see my thread, but in these last few weeks, my finger has been throbbing. I can only imagine it’s tied there,” he rubbed at his left hand and you watched as his movements vibrated the string, causing yours to ache in turn. The thread was taught in the small distance between you, almost daring you to try and cut it. 

“So, I just knew whomever it was, they were close. And when I went to Coruscant, and she told me we were connected, I just knew.” 

The weight on your chest felt like your ribs were cracking, heart straining to pump your blood that felt like it had congealed in your veins. 

“What if,” you tested your voice. “What if it isn’t her?”

“Wow,” Poe scoffed. “You’ve only read her file, you think that gives you a right to pass judgement?” 

“No!” you cut him off. “I’m just offering another point of view. Like I always do. I’ve heard the stories, Dameron. I just think you should be carefull.” 

Poe rubbed at his hand again. “Do you know how it feels, Doc? To search the whole galaxy, trying to find them? Only to fall short countless times?” 

You shook your head. Of course you didn’t. You’d spent almost the entirety of your life on only three planets, and really hadn’t felt the desire to branch out to anymore. With the First Order gaining traction, it’s threat of another galactic war looming, you placed your work first. You always did. 

“Can you even see your thread?” 

You didn’t respond, eyes holding his as you saw your vision blur. You willed the tears away -  _ not here, not now.  _

It was evident Poe was waiting for your response, so you swallowed before answering. 

“Yes.” 

“And you’ve never been curious to know who was on the other end? Never wanted to go out and find them?” 

“It’s complicated,” you answered, eyes falling on his finger. The knot on his finger was mocking, almost taunting you. 

“How is it complicated?” Poe asked. “You either want them or you don’t.” 

“I do,” you said through your teeth. “But it’s not that easy, Dameron. You have no idea.” 

He leaned towards you, hands on his knees. The length of your thread shortened, and momentarily you wondered what it looked like if the distance was closed. 

“So help me understand,” Poe pleaded. “I just,” he stopped. Stewing on his words before he opened his mouth again. “I don’t get you. At all. You’re so hot and cold - mostly cold. We get along, and then we’re at each other's necks. I’m getting tired of this game, Doc. Aren’t you?” 

_ He would make it so easy _ , you thought. It would be so easy to fall in love with him. You did want it, more than you’ve wanted anything in your life. To walk side by side with him amongst the halls of the base, kiss him before and after flight missions, actually go back to your quarters at night and know that he was there. Stars, you wanted nothing more than to have Poe Dameron in your bed, waiting on you. You wondered if he ever entertained the thought of you two together, maybe as soulmates or maybe not. Has Poe ever wanted you like you wanted him in this moment? 

The thought scared you, the possibility that he hadn’t kept you silent. He closed his eyes, shaking his head as he sighed. Poe stood up, looking at you dejectedly. 

“I am tired - “ you began quickly, not wanting him to leave. He paused, waiting to hear you out before the base rumbled with the force and scream of aircrafts entering the atmosphere. 

Poe’s face lit up. 

“We can make up later,” he smiled. “She’s here.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and the plot thickens!!!!! how excited are we to meet these new pilots??? as always, hope y'all enjoyed! love & feedback is appreciated xoxoxo
> 
> also, ziff = himbo. i do not make the rules. but we love him.


	6. SIX // CALM DOWN, STARBOY.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> content warning: this chapter contains drug use and more swearing than usual.
> 
> UPDATED TO REVISE POE'S BACKSTORY - it has come to my attention that Poe's spice running backstory is racially insensitive and overall not canon to the star wars story, so I have rewritten to exclude it. Thanks!

**SAWBONES // SIX**

**CALM DOWN, STARBOY.**

You’d surprised yourself, honestly. 

Maybe you were cut out for politics - the way you were able to stand in line with Poe and the Generals, keep your face blank and greet the new recruits without a scowl? It was nothing short of impressive. For you and Poe to stand shoulder to shoulder, his hands clasped behind him while yours were clasped in front, and not glance down at the stupid fucking string and notice that it was probably the shortest it’s ever been entitled you to an award. Maybe a nice vacation, off base? For the entirety of this training? 

That would be nice. 

You half expected Poe to jump into her arms, like people often did when their significant others returned from a flight. He didn’t. In fact, Poe’s expression did not crack from it’s diplomatic mask. Shoulders back, jaw clenched and chin out, Poe scanned the pilots as they left their ships, and you couldn’t help but watch him from the corner of your eye. Poe now diametrically opposed who he had been in your office, his _stupid_ smile now a faint memory. 

Diplomatic, political Poe was one you hadn’t met nor seen in person. 

Diplomatic, political Poe was _hot_. 

Poe’s posture elongated his spine, jutted his chest out and brought forth his collar bones. Your eyes once again traced his gold chain. 

Maybe you didn’t deserve all the praise you’d previously granted yourself as you openly ogled the man next to you. But Poe was your soulmate. It granted you an ogle pass, whether or not both parties were aware. 

The pilots had lined up, helmets off and tucked under their arms. They were the perfect image, the very epitome of what people would want to see on Resistance banners. You’d purposely not remembered their names in spite. You were the Head Medic of the Resistance - they should have to introduce themselves to you.

Leia greeted them, her words sounded garbled as your eyes met the infamous _Scoria Tane_ . She stood tall, her long white hair in a loose french braid. Her chestnut skin seemingly unmarred with such trivial marks like _pores_. You felt the breath leave your chest as her eyes flitted over to meet Poe’s. No matter how brief, you still caught it. You couldn’t feel any change in Poe’s demeanor, but you didn’t want to chance glancing over to see if there was a smile on his face. No need to put salt in an already festering wound. 

“This is our head medic,” Leia introduced you. Your head turned to hers before returning back to the recruits with a small nod. You were really mucking up your air of superiority. 

Besides Scoria, there was only one other human. And he was _staring_ at you. 

“It’s an honor to be here, Generals,” the man spoke up, his eyes momentarily leaving your figure to address Holo, Ackbar and Leia. “It seems like a large base. I don’t know about my fellow pilots, but I would love a tour.” His eyes were back on you. 

“I’m sure Commander Dameron would be more than willing to accommodate you, Commander Ancin,” Holo nodded. 

Ancin smiled slightly. “Doctor, would you have the time?” 

You had been trying very hard not to meet his gaze, but his lack of subtlety forced your hand. However, Poe had beaten you to a response. 

“She’s very busy,” he cleared his throat. “Still has to conduct your physicals and stress tests. I am more than willing to give you a tour,” his tone was clipped. 

Ancin didn’t even spare Poe a glance, and you saw Poe clench his hands from behind his back out of your peripheral vision. You desperately wanted to pause time, to knock your shoulders or nudge him with your elbow. But you couldn’t, not with the audience in front of you. 

“It’s fine, Commander Dameron. I’m sure I could spare some time,” you responded, feeling like your skin was on fire. No doubt the white of your coat further contrasted the fact that your face was also on fire. 

“Great,” Ancin switched his helmet to the other arm. “Can we begin now?” He turned to Leia quickly. “My apologies, unless there was more to be discussed?” 

Leia gave him a tight smile. “The specifics can be gone over later.”

Ancin nodded before breaking formation with his fellow pilots and grabbing your arm. “Shall we, Doc?” 

If you would’ve had the time to turn your head as Ancin grabbed you, you would’ve seen the way Poe clenched his jaw impossibly tight and watched as the Coruscant’s pilot Commander dragged you away. If you would’ve perhaps _taken_ the time to drag your eyes away from Poe’s chest and face earlier, you would’ve noticed that since the beginning of this whole situation, Poe had been slowly dragging the pointer finger of his right hand over the base of his left pinky. 

If you did, maybe you wouldn’t have agreed to showing someone around a base you barely knew yourself. 

“I’m going to apologize in advance,” you began, subtly removing your arm from his grip. “I don’t really know the base that well either. I know hangars, cafeteria and meeting room. But only in relation to the medbay.” 

“That’s okay,” he smiled down at you. “We can figure it out together.”

You hadn’t forced yourself to memorize the names of the pilots, but hearing Ancin jogged your memory from when you had skimmed their files. You were pretty sure his first name was Cane, and if the galaxy could pick one person to represent them, it would probably be him. 

Cane Ancin was objectively gorgeous. He was tall, several inches taller than you and most likely Poe, too. His cheekbones and jawline were sharp, and you remembered bitterly that he must be ridiculously fit, because he had one of the lowest resting heart rates you’d ever seen. He was broad, and his curls rivaled Poe’s. You outwardly winced at the comparison. 

“Something wrong?” he asked, putting a hand on your shoulder. You tried not to shrug it off. 

“Nothing. Just uh, remembering all the stuff I have to do back in the medbay.” 

Cane wasn’t bothered. “Let’s start moving then, yeah?”

The two of you had continued walking for a couple of paces, Cane watching you out of the corner of his eye, not even bothering to take account of where the two of you were. 

Fleetingly, you wondered if the base would be able to accommodate both Cane _and_ Poe’s ego. 

“Why did you want me to give you a tour?” you asked, his silent watching pushing you to the brink. 

Cane shrugged. “Is it a crime to ask a beautiful woman to show me around?” 

You blinked at him. 

“Tell me,” his voice viscous like honey. He increased his stride so he could stand in front of you, abruptly stopping your movement. Throwing civility to the wind, you openly scowled. 

“Can you see your thread?” 

You wanted to roll your eyes. Could you have a conversation about literally anything else or was the soulmate tether your whole life now? You couldn’t work, sleep, or even eat without thinking about it. You’d never piloted one before, but you were sure that you could figure out how to steer an x-wing into oblivion. Sure, you had two of the best pilots in the galaxy on base that would catch your ass in no time, but it was nice to pretend that they couldn’t. 

Cane looked you up and down slowly. You weren’t exactly sure _what_ he was looking at. Your boots, black leggings and white coat buttoned up to your throat didn’t really emanate _sexy_ , but this guy was weird. It probably did seem sexy to him. Your scowl deepened. 

“I can see mine,” he drawled. Now would’ve been a great moment for one of your infamous ‘ _i’m gonna be sick’_ moments. “And let me tell you, I like where it leads.” 

You snorted. “Calm down, starboy. I can see mine, too.”

Cane deflated. 

“Does that actually work? Do you get people with that?” you questioned, tapping on your chin. “Even on a few shots of fire-water I still don’t think I would’ve fell for it.”

Cane didn’t stay off-guard for long - after you were done speaking, he let out a laugh and held his hands up as if to say, ‘ _well, I tried_.’

“It does sometimes,” he said. “The addition of fire-water does seem to increase the chances, though I figured I would try it with you regardless.” 

“You pilots are always so risky,” the two of you fell into step again. The tension seemed to have dissipated instantly. “Always shoot first, ask questions later.” 

“You speak from experience,” Cane raised an eyebrow. 

“Do you know how many pilots end up in my medbay because of that mentality?” You shook your head. “Craziest beings in the galaxy, I swear.” 

“Dameron is the worst of us,” he responded, and you didn’t miss the way his expression steeled. You stayed silent, waiting for him to continue. 

“Commander of the Resistance? You really trust that guy?” 

You narrowed your eyes, the words your brain wanted to speak in defense of Poe stilled at the tip of your tongue. You didn’t expect someone to join the ‘ _I hate Poe Dameron_ ’ club, but as soon as it crossed your mind, you realized you weren’t even part of that club. You were in the “ _I hate loving Poe Dameron_ ’ club. President of the ‘ _My soulmate is a douche but it’s totally my fault_ ’ club. 

You could go on. 

“What’s _your_ issue with Poe?” you asked. 

“Typical he hasn’t mentioned me,” Cane scratched his bare jaw. It made you realize you preferred stubble. “He’s just...not the guy you all think he is.” 

“Don’t be vague,” you said, annoyed. 

“The guy just…he’s not this straight-laced, hero of the Resistance. Hell, I haven’t even been here a day and I can tell the whole base fucking worships him, and for what?” 

“For being a good pilot?” you answered what was most likely a rhetorical question. “For risking his life every time he gets in that ship, getting us First Order intel and directly playing a role in saving the _galaxy?”_ You were getting angrier by the second. Whatever past he had with Poe, you didn’t care about it. 

“Might I remind you it’s the same galaxy that you and I both _live in_? We all have shit we’ve done in the past. How we move on from it defines us.” You stopped yourself before saying something you would regret, revealing too much to a man you didn’t know. And honestly? You didn’t care to. 

You continued when Cane stayed silent. 

“You don’t have skeletons in the closet? If you know Poe’s, I’m sure he knows yours.” 

You turned to him, conveniently stopped outside of the double doors to your medbay. The harsh fluorescents illuminated Cane’s face, exposing the conflict and discord written all over his features. Whatever thoughts were floating in his head made you feel uneasy, as though you were teetering on a tightrope. Cane didn’t meet your gaze, instead he chose to finally notice his surroundings. 

He inhaled deeply and exhaled for longer. You waited patiently. 

“I’ll see you around for my tests, Doc.” Cane continued to walk down the hallway, and you fought the urge to point out that it was the opposite direction he needed to go. ...right?

You couldn’t dwell on your mediocre sense of direction before you heard the whoosh of air form the double doors opening and FX-7’s bulky metal frame towering over you. Droid or not, you could feel the disapproval from the lit, annular holes in its head as they bored into your back.

“You have plenty to do,” was all the droid said before it retreated back into the medbay.

  
  


✗ ✗ ✗

_Yes,_ you had plenty to do. So much so that it took you up until early morning to finish. It was so early, (or late?) that you had recoiled when you’d checked the time.

But, as you were heading back to your quarters to catch up on sleep because you were in _no rush_ to start taking vitals on the new recruits, your arm was caught on fire. 

Not literally, but it felt literal. Like every nerve ending was ripped from your skin, abraded and exposed. And it all originated from one point on your hand. You fought the buckle of your knees, desperately applying pressure to your pinky finger after loudly yelling a string of expletives. As you took another step in the direction of your quarters, the pain impossibly intensified. Somehow, your brain was able to act logically as you quickly retraced your last few steps. 

As you moved backwards, the pain slowly dissipated into a deep throb, coming from both your hand and somehow your chest? You inspected your arm, turning over at least seven times. Your medical training had never taught you, or even touched on anything related to...whatever just happened. As you retreated back to the medbay, the pain intensified again. 

“ _What the fuck,”_ you gritted through your teeth. Stepping back from the double doors, you continued forward. And for the next few minutes, you continued like that. Walking and retracing your steps, following the path that didn’t beset your body in so much agony your vision went white. 

In your course around the base, you were at a junction you’d never been to previously. To your left, the hallway led out to the runway and to your right, a dead end. However, a few experimental steps in either direction revealed that your phantom arm pain was directing you straight forward. 

_Honestly, fuck the galaxy_ , you sized up the door in front of you. Whatever forces were at work right now, pulling your sensory nerves like strings on a marionette could fuck off. Sending you to weird parts of the base that you’d never been to (it could’ve been a common area actually, you never really explored) and sending you to a blank, durasteel door? Another healthy dose of fire shot up your spinal cord. 

“The thread is sentient,” you tried to catch your breath. “All of the past soulmates in the galaxy have joined together to kill me.” 

Rationally, there was no way you were correct but you were running on empty and had been updating the files on the pilots until you thought your retinas would burn out. Maybe this was a dream? You could definitely be dreaming. 

Shaking out your right arm, you bounced back and forth on either foot. You were going to go through this mystery door. Enter the mystery door that didn’t make your arm feel like the thread was pulling tight between your arm and torso as if to amputate it. Yes.

Before your mind could bitch out, your muscles pushed your legs forward by reflex - acting before the brain could process. Your hand pulling down on the handle, a component most doors on the base didn’t have. 

Blue. 

Your entire field of vision was met with a murky swirl of _blue._ The room was of decent size, maybe slightly smaller than your office. From what you could see, it looked like a storage room. The walls were lined with shelves that contained extra orange jumpsuits, helmets, blankets and clothes of all sorts. In your pursuit of orienting yourself, you disregarded the figure sitting on the ground against the wall opposite you.

With one leg forward and the other bent at the knee, the source of the smoke dangled loosely between the fingers of Poe Dameron. 

But you didn’t realize that yet, because it was dark and hazy and you were confused and _what was that smell?_ The acrid fumes were coupled with an odor that was almost...sweet? No. Tart felt like the better word. Sharp and sour and sitting on your tastebuds. 

As Poe dragged on the stick in his hand, the embers that burned at the end burned brighter and attracted your eyes. _Then,_ you noticed him. 

“Dameron?” you squinted through the smoke, trying to swat it out of your vision. “Are you seriously smoking spice right now?”

In your confusion and disbelief, you didn’t notice how the throbbing from the remnants of pain in your arm had become an amalgamation of both the lingering pain and a new, warmer sensation. Pleasure.

“I’m surprised you know what this is,” he blew out a long stream. 

You tried not to scoff. “I was a teenager once, too.” 

He was silent for a moment before lazily motioning with the hand that held the joint to the spot next to him. With a concerning lack of reluctance you’d think on later, you sat down next to him. 

“My entire left arm has been killing me all day,” he took another hit. You frowned as he blew the smoke out at you. 

“So weird that there isn’t someone on base that could do something about that,” you replied casually, but your mind was spinning. _His arm was hurting too? What the hell was going on?_

He shook his head, ignoring your response and offered you the joint instead. Surprising both him and yourself, you took it, rotating it in your hand. 

“Take a hit,” Poe urged. “You can turn off your doctor-mode for one seco - _are you really inspecting it right now_?”

You looked at him, confused. “Um, yes? Why are you inhaling this when you don’t even know what it’s made of?” 

Poe blinked at you, albeit much slower than usual. “To get high.”

You tapped the ashes into the palm of your hand, then handed the spice back to him. His hand slowly, meticulously took it from your grip and brought it back to his lips. Rubbing the ashes with your pointer finger in your palm, you brought the fine, cerulean powder to your eyes, studying it before lightly placing your finger on your tongue. Poe’s eyes tracked every movement. 

“It’s similar to Ryll,” you noted. “An ore from Ryloth. It’s usually used medicinally, but it can be refined into some good fucking spice.”

“You’ve smoked spice?” 

You took the object in question from his grip, putting it between your lips and taking a deep inhale. Holding it, you smirked at him. You laughed while exhaling, your lungs somewhat relishing in the sweet burn you hadn’t felt in years. 

“Medical school was hard.”

“That’s…” Poe’s eyebrows twisted as he tried to find the words, “so...normal? Of you?” 

“Thanks?”

Poe leaned his head back against the wall. “You’re always the head medic, the doctor of the Resistance. You make it really hard to get to know you outside of that. Is there someone beneath the white coat?” 

You took another hit to avoid answering, and Poe had no issue in continuing. 

“I had to ask that engineer you always hang out with,” he paused, thinking hard to remember Jasti’s name before giving up and continuing, “what your actual name was. The people I asked before didn’t know.” 

“Everyone calls me Doc. I don’t mind it.” 

“I do,” Poe snapped, uncharacteristically hostile. “Stars, I’ve made such an effort for you.” 

“An effort?” you echoed.

“To get to know you, to spend time with you. Maker, I even thought for a second - “ _Nope._ Poe wasn’t high enough to let that statement loose. 

But you were just high enough not to notice. 

“I’m sorry,” you apologized, the usual weight on your chest now heavier. “I don’t know how to act when people want to get to know me. I haven’t for a long time.” 

Poe placed the joint on the ground, letting it burn out. The two of you sat in silence, slowly inhaling and exhaling the chemicals that swirled in the air. You could feel yourself becoming heavier and weightless at the same time. Your physical sense felt light, but the burden of everything else came down heavy. 

“I hate having him here,” Poe began. “Ancin.” 

“Did you know him previously?” 

Poe swallowed thickly, and you watched his adam’s apple bob up and down. The thought crossed your mind again - the sensitivity of his carotid. It would be so easy for you to find out right now, to just lean over and place a finger, or even your lips on it. That part of your brain that kept you rational and reasonable must've been short circuited by the spice because it wasn’t telling you _not_ to find out, not reminding you of any and all consequences. For once, your brain felt quiet. 

Leaning his head back up towards you, he caught your staring but you couldn’t be bothered to look away. Maybe he was sensitive elsewhere, too. You had dated a guy from Corellia who went absolutely feral when your lips met his sternum. You wanted to find out if Poe was the same way. You wanted to place your lips on every inch of his body, test each section of skin for a quick intake of breath, a twitch, goosebumps. To feel his fingers, calloused from years of flight maneuvers and switches, testing _you_ for sensitivity. 

In your reverie, Poe had begun to inch closer at imperceptible increments. His left hand resting flat on the ground - next to your right. His left pinky laid over your right as he leaned in, tucking some hair behind your ear to justify his proximity. His head turned, his lips now ghosting over the strip of space between the bottom of your earlobe to the joint of your jaw. 

“Is this okay?” He whispered, and you closed your eyes at the feeling of his lips brushing against you. 

“This better not be a dream again,” you said under your breath. 

Chuckling, Poe pressed his lips to your temporomandibular joint as you tilted your head, giving him full access. “Again?” 

“I don’t want to talk about it.” Your filter was gone - your brain now occupied with the double assault of the spice _and_ having Poe Dameron press kisses onto your skin. 

“We don’t have to talk,” he said, unbuttoning the top two buttons of your white coat to give him more access to your neck. He sucked lightly at your own pulse point, and you sucked in a breath. 

“Sensitive?” _Stars. The irony._

“Are you?” you bit back as you brought your hand to rest on his bicep. 

“Want to find out?” he pulled back to meet your eyes. In spite of your slow movements and cloudy train of thought, you had never felt so clear, so confident in an answer. 

You licked your lips, moistening them as your hand slid up from its place on his bicep to the side of Poe’s face, stroking your thumb lightly. Poe sighed, leaning into your ministration and tangling his pinky finger with yours. You could feel the blood buzzing underneath your skin, your sympathetic nervous system sending adrenaline and epinephrine by the gallon to account for how fast your heart was racing. 

You copied his earlier movements, pressing your lips to various points along his jaw, his neck. Testing what he liked the most. When you got to your target, you boldly licked the spot up to his jaw. Poe’s hand tangled in your hair, breath shuddering. 

“That’s a yes for you, too,” you whispered with the last remnants of air in your lungs. 

_Finally,_ your brain rejoiced through the fog. 

You continued kissing, nipping at spots here and there. At the notch between his collarbones, Poe groaned. 

“ _Scoria.”_

You stopped. 

Pulling away, you mustered the courage to meet his eyes. The smoke of the room now felt suffocating, not intoxicating. You felt like you were being smothered, and you were now noticing the lack of fresh air in your lungs. 

Poe’s eyes met yours, too before widening. 

Your hand left his face, your pinky leaving his. The dull ache in your arm had returned. You swallowed thickly, nodding. 

“ _Fuck._ I’m - “ Poe couldn’t straighten out his thoughts, let alone form a sentence. Very clearly in his mind, he had known it was you kissing, sucking on his neck. Her name had just..slipped out. 

“No,” you cut him off before he could formulate some half-assed excuse you didn’t want to hear. “I’m sorry. I should’ve have - I forgot about - “ You couldn’t find the words either. 

Standing, you looked down at him briefly, noting how the red thread of _fucking fate_ bisected his torso, standing out starkly against the blue of the smoke and his button up. 

“Thanks for the spice,” you forced, before leaving the room. 

Walking down the hallway, continuing your initial course of returning to your quarters, you felt extremely sober. What else could sober you up faster than the guy whose neck you're kissing moaning out the name of another woman? 

Looking down, you quickly redid the buttons Poe had undone. 

_I’m sorry?_ Your mind replayed the moment. _Sorry for what? Poe is_ yours. 

You stopped in your tracks. 

Poe _was_ yours. Why the fuck were you embarrassed that you were indirectly kissing your soulmate? Apologizing because he was currently in the middle of wasting his time with another woman? Sure, it was girl code not to do what you had previously been doing, but soulmates were excluded from girl code. Whether or not it was indirectly (...or directly) your fault that he was with her wasn’t important. 

So, yeah. _Fuck_ being sorry, _fuck_ being embarrassed. You were done tiptoeing around the subject. Operation ‘ _Poe is my soulmate and I’m finally going to do something about it_ ’ was a go. You couldn’t waste any more time. 

The realization that you would explode if you had to spend any more days of your life without Poe’s lips on you was completely unrelated. 

  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> are you guys screaming? i'm screaming. 
> 
> what a wild rollercoaster this has been & will continue to be. I hope y'all are excited for the ride, because I am. Can't thank you guys enough for the love & support. don't be scared, share the angst with your friends!! xoxox


	7. SEVEN // OBLIVIOUS

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, just in case you didn't know I revised the chapters that included Poe's spice running backstory to get rid of it! I was informed that it's racially insensitive and irrelevant to the canon story, and therefore it was not applicable. Thanks!

**SAWBONES // SEVEN**

**OBLIVIOUS**

Jasti and Ziff were in the hangar together, the engineer cranking and slamming at something under the engine as the pilot leaned against the wing. Watching her.

A loud bang, followed by a string of expletives sounded from the panel Jasti had half her body shoved into, and Ziff couldn’t stifle his laughter. 

In a frustrated groan, Jasti pulled herself out and swung the impact wrench in his face. 

“I know that wasn’t you that just laughed,” she warned, a streak of grease smeared across her cheek. Her hair was a mess of tangles within her ponytail and her baby hairs were flaring away from her face. Her eyes were accusing, but lacked sincerity. The beige engineer jumpsuit was tied around her waist, and her white tank top clung to her torso with sweat. 

Yolo Ziff had never seen anyone more beautiful. 

“I’m not even a mechanic,” she sighed, wiping her forehead with the back of her arm and succeeding in creating another grease streak. Ziff watched with a small smile on his face. 

“You can call Peters for this,” she bent down, returning the wrench to the toolbox and Ziff _definitely_ did not look down her top.

“I don’t trust Peters. He’d probably reroute the air conditioning controls to the hyperdrive. Do _you_ trust Peters?” 

Jasti bit her lower lip, wiping her hands on her pants. Sighing, she shook her head. 

“I’m not doing this again,” she motioned to the x-wing. “Don’t even think about asking again.” 

“No?” Ziff raised a brow.

Jasti couldn’t help but _swoon_ at how he looked leaning against the wing. Who knew the orange pilot jumpsuits could be so flattering? On men like Ziff, she was sure a sack would look flattering. In the midst of focusing on her running thoughts, she didn’t respond to Ziff. At her silence, he gulped and took a leap. 

“Hey, can you uh, can you see your thread?” He asked, firm in his tone so it wouldn’t shake. “I made the joke about Dameron being yours in the cafeteria a few days ago, but you never really addressed it.” 

Before Jasti could open her mouth, Ziff continued. 

“I mean obviously he isn’t, because he’s Doc’s. But…” he laughed lightly, suddenly feeling _very_ embarrassed and awkward. “Dunno. Just wondering.”

Jasti watched him, watching as the smile faded from his mouth when he saw her sad expression. He opened his mouth to say something, _again_ , but she beat him to it. 

“I used to,” she looked away from him, pulling at the arms of her jumpsuit dangling loosely at her sides. “Until I was a teenager. I could see it, feel the tether.”

Ziff stayed quiet, willing her to continue. She untied and retied the jumpsuit around her waist before, “It broke.”

“I like to think they died,” she shrugged. “Y’know. Rather than think that they didn’t feel like finding me, and found someone else instead.” 

“Do you think the universe gets it wrong?” he asked. 

“The thread?” Jasti asked and he nodded. 

It was something she’d never thought about before. Since the day that her thread broke, she figured there were only two reasons - they died or they moved on. It was more common than not to never find your soulmate, but for it to break so early is what troubled her the most. But maybe, the universe _did_ get it wrong. Whomever was on the other side didn’t chalk up to being soulmate, and it broke. The red string of fate said _oops._

“I’d like to think so,” Ziff said. And he meant it. 

Ever since being in the medbay with her, Ziff found himself purposely seeking out the engineer. Pulling random wires in his x-wing, faking navigation problems. Anything to call her to his hangar. 

“Maybe in some cases,” Jasti reasoned, still painfully oblivious. She tucked some of her stray flyaways behind her head as she thought about it. 

“Does that mean I get to choose whomever I want, or am I destined to be alone? I don’t want to take someone else’s soulmate,” she said.

“Is it taking if they want you, too?” 

Jasti cocked her head in thought, still missing _it_ entirely. Ziff pushed himself off of the wing and grabbed her by the waist. One hand remained on her hip as he brought the other to cup the side of her face. 

“Is it taking if they want you, too?” he asked again, his eyes searching hers for permission. Her initial shock subsided as she relaxed into his hold. Both of her hands rested on his chest, and her eyes left his as she played with the zipper on his suit. She unzipped it slightly so she could slide one hand to rest on the junction between his neck and shoulder. Finally, she looked back up at him, a small smile painted on her lips. 

“No,” she answered and leaned up on her toes to kiss him. She could feel his heart hammering beneath his suit, the way his hand tensed around her hip as he pulled her impossibly closer. She pressed herself against him, not entirely sure where she ended and he began. At that moment, she didn’t care that the hangar was very open and _very_ public. Kissing Ziff made it feel like every artery, vein and capillary was about to burst with the heat flooding her body. Her lungs wanted to breathe but she didn’t feel like she needed air. Not anymore. Breathing was trivial when she could spend her time kissing Ziff. 

Maybe his sentiments weren’t the same, because he finally pulled away, chest heaving and pupils blown. Or, Ziff’s mind was more rational than hers and didn’t fool him into believing that he didn’t need oxygen. 

“What took you so long?” she pressed her lips to his again. He returned the pressure, his features pulling into a smile. 

“I always thought I was oblivious,” he had to pull away again to laugh. “You set the bar.” 

She removed the hand from his neck to hit his chest. He closed his eyes, resting his forehead against hers and she did the same. 

“I can’t see mine,” his breath was hot, his breathing still irregular. “But I don’t care. Whoever it leads to isn’t who I want.” 

“Maybe it does get it wrong sometimes,” she laughed softly. She pulled away to look at him, though still stayed in his embrace. 

“Do you think it’s right, in her case?” Ziff wondered, saying your first name to clarify. “Do you really think Commander Dameron and the Doc are actually soulmates?” 

In their post kiss haze, Ziff and Jasti forgot that directly to the right of Ziff’s X-Wing was Poe’s T-70. And they didn’t realize that Poe had just jumped out of the cockpit moments prior, finishing up polishing the controls. A task he did daily. 

Nor did they realize the Commander in question stood frozen behind them as they held each other. Only when Jasti pulled Ziff into a hug by wrapping her arms around his waist did she see him over Ziff’s shoulder. 

“ _Fuck.”_

  
  
  


✗ ✗ ✗

  
  


“Yeah, uh, no. I’m not doing that.” 

Your fingers paused, hovering over the holopad. Did you hear that right? Did someone just tell you _no?_

Scoria was almost scowling at you as she stood to the side of the running belt, arms crossed and hip cocked. 

You blinked. “You’re not doing what?” 

She tilted her head to the right. “I’m not running.” 

“Why?”

“I don’t run.”

You frowned, fingers resuming their ministrations on the screen, typing in her measurements and still resuming with the text. “Then you’re grounded.”

She scoffed. “You can’t do that!” 

You sighed, deeply and for an extended amount of time. Her fingers tensed around the grip around her forearms. You tugged at the collar of the white coat that was buttoned to your neck. 

“This tells me, and _you_ , that I can. If you don’t want to do the stress test, that’s fine. But the next time you sit to pilot a ship will be to fly back to Coruscant.”

Maybe you came off a little...hostile. But you were bitter today, and you had every right to be. You had gotten no sleep, the usual post-high crash never coming as you laid in bed completely paralyzed by your thoughts. You were going to play offense, you were going to get Poe. You were hoping that you weren’t going to have to be confronted with Scoria so soon, but since when did you ever get what you want? Of course, the first thing you had lined up in the afternoon were these pilot tests. You could thank FX-7 for that. 

Scoria didn’t respond, staring at you blankly with her arms still crossed. You raised an eyebrow, daring her to challenge you. If she wanted to be here, she had to play by the rules. You’d sooner be dead than let some rogue pilot act as though they owned the base. Poe was the only exception. 

Realizing that you weren’t backing down, she stepped on the belt. You placed the holopad in the crook of your arm as you started to scan her initial vitals. The belt started moving, the speed increasing gradually. Scoria kept pace with her arms still crossed. 

You then turned, your back to her as you flitted with the screen on the wall adjacent. After a few moments of silence - Scoria walking, you tapping - she spoke up. 

“I know about you.”

You stopped, turning back around. She smirked, her arms now mirroring her feet. 

Were you supposed to engage? This is the first real conversation you’d had with her, and she was already being brusque. You obviously didn’t know about her, and the confusion on your features conveyed this. At your silence, she continued. 

“Few years ago, the First Order came sniffing around Coruscant. Seeking manpower. Pilots, mechanics, strategists, generals. Anybody.” 

You smoothed your features, replacing the confusion with a slight furrow of your eyebrows, nonverbally saying _where are you going with this?_

But you knew. You knew exactly where she was going, what point she was making. It forced you to steel your features, mask your emotions like you were trained. The only thing that could give away your panic was your pulse, erratic and slamming against your ribcage. 

“They didn’t want me, but some of my friends went. Felt they had no other choice,” the belt was increasing in speed and Scoria was now in a light jog, “One of them got sent back. One leg lighter.”

Bile rose up your throat but you still remained blank, as though you were bored of this conversation. You swallowed it back down, and Scoria was too focused on her pace to notice your break in facade. 

“I know what they used to call you, y’know. In school. It’s why the First Order wanted you so bad, huh?” 

“You’re going to spout off third party information like it's the truth?” You narrowed your eyes.

“Are you going to tell me it’s not, _Sawbones_?” Scoria sneered, though it was somewhat breathless. You resisted turning the speed up higher. 

“The First Order didn’t want you, so you come here and threaten me like you have some kind of foundation to stand on?” You step closer to her and take great satisfaction in seeing her heart rate rise on the screen in your peripheral. “Go ahead and tell Organa. Or Holdo and Ackbar. They already know.” 

Scoria then jumped, placing her feet on the metal sides of the belt. As she fought to catch her breath, she still gave you a sickening smirk. 

“But does _he?”_

You narrowed your eyes. 

“Poe, I mean. You’re really gonna look at another woman’s soulmate like that?” 

The impassive mask broke, and you laughed. Scoria scowled. 

“If you think you have shit on me, wait till Poe finds out you’re not his soulmate.” 

Scoria stepped off the belt, feet firmly on solid ground. The two of you were maybe a meter apart and despite her height and air of superiority she carried, you weren’t the least bit threatened. She flicked her head, the end of her long french braid leaving her shoulder. You think the movement was meant to be intimidating, but it made you want to laugh more. So, you did. 

“He _is,”_ she insisted. 

You raised your right pinky and watched the color drain from her face. 

“He won’t believe you,” she started, “He’s told me about his past, about all the others. How _happy_ he is that he’s finally done with it all.”

“Why do you think I haven’t told him? Just when I was going to, he met you on Coruscant.”

She shrugged. “You waited, and now he belongs to someone else.” 

“Does he, though?” you challenged. 

“Unless you want him to be in the loop on who exactly Sawbones is, I think he does.” 

You knew it would come back to bite you eventually. Sure, you hadn’t signed away your life to the First Order like so many of your peers had, but that didn’t mean you were completely...uninvolved. Medical school drained you of nearly all the credits you had, and they had promised to pay. If you’d come on the Destroyer or Dreadnought every once in a while to patch up some of the troopers, or even a Knight of Ren once or twice, they’d help you out. Even giving you extra credits for a job well done. But once in a while turned into every other week and the injuries became more grave. In the end you were told that the healing process was taking too much time and too many people were away from their responsibilities. Instead of treatment or healing, you were told to _salvage_. 

Lord Ren and General Hux felt it was better to remove appendages entirely, rather than support the recovery process. It would serve as an incentive, you had been told. Do your job and do it right, and you could continue to serve the First Order in one piece. 

You’d complied. 

Could Poe even want you after that, knowing that his soulmate had earned herself a nickname from her gruesome tactics? They weren’t your tactics, though. They were _theirs_ , but you couldn’t be completely innocent in the matter. You’d taken an oath, and you repeated the words ‘ _primum non nocere_ ’ every time you left. _It wasn’t you. You hadn’t had a choice. Not in the end, at least._ But you didn’t think Poe would see it that way. 

“Poe is smart,” you bit back. “He’ll catch on.”

“I think I can keep his mind off of it,” she shrugged. 

The double doors decompressed, and Poe stepped in from the hallway. His eyes barely met Scoria’s before settling on you. The tension in the room was palpable, almost intrusive. There was something off between you and Scoria, but Poe, too. His skin lacked it’s usual tanned pigment. He seemed tense, uncomfortable as he entered and you knew it couldn’t be solely due to the atmosphere. 

“I’ve been looking for you,” he told Scoria. She grabbed the end of her braid and pulled it over her shoulder, playing with the elastic at the end. 

“Just finished up my stress test with the Doc here. Flying colors, right?” She winked at you, and you were momentarily caught off guard at how fast she could change. 

“I still need to go over the results,” you pretended to check your holopad, though your eyes were unseeing. 

It was your first time seeing Poe since the night before in the supply room, and you weren’t sure if seeing him look like a shell of himself hurt worse than if he were back to his normal self. You wanted desperately to turn back time, to be back in that room with him. Feel his hands back on you, his lips on your skin. You wanted to go back and continue as though he didn’t say her name. You wanted to tell him - everything. You knew she’d be an obstacle in your grand ‘ _Poe is my soulmate and I’m finally going to do something about it’_ scheme, but you didn’t think she’d _know_ what she did.

 _If he’s really your soulmate, would it matter?_ You thought to yourself, ignoring how Scoria ran her hand up Poe’s arm. _Would whatever Ancin said to you about him matter?_

No, it wouldn’t. In your mind, nothing was worse than what you did for the First Order. But maybe, Poe felt the same way about himself. 

_Fuck it._

“Dameron,” you began. “Can I speak to you, alone?” 

Scoria narrowed her eyes, opened her mouth to object but Poe shook his head before she could. 

“Not tonight, Doc. Scoria and I have somewhere to be.” 

_Well. That’s not how you intended that to go._

You nodded, “it can wait, then.” 

Poe nodded at you, and then left the room with Scoria in tow. 

Your vision blurred when the doors closed behind them, the numbers on the holopad streaking into one another as you tried to read them. It didn’t matter if you could see them, you wouldn’t be able to finish up the results. Not right now. Right now, Poe had taken Scoria away to _who knows where_ , to do _who knows what_. That’s all you could focus on. 

But, _who knows where_ was the hangar that housed all of the Coruscant pilot’s ships. 

And _who knows what_ was Poe telling Scoria that she needed to leave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this one was a little shorter than usual, but i just really couldn't drag it out any longer. thank you guys SO much for the feedback and support, and i'm sorry i didn't update last week. college has been kicking my ass and i haven't had the time nor energy to write. but...ZIFF AND JASTI PROGRESS. 
> 
> my tumblr is agntofhydra - come chat! 
> 
> xoxox


	8. EIGHT // CUSP OF COLLAPSE

**SAWBONES**

**EIGHT // CUSP OF COLLAPSE**

The base was quiet and Poe was nowhere to be found. 

News traveled fast that Scoria had left D’Qar. Faster than usual. Barely an hour after Poe took her from your medbay, you felt the familiar rumble and scream of a ship taking off into the atmosphere. But ships coming and going was common. In fact, it was uncommon for you to not hear it on the regular, therefore you didn’t attribute it to Poe kicking Scoria off the planet. 

Oblivious to the fact that the biggest threat to your emotional security was gone, you continued with the tests of the remaining pilots for the day. You still fixated on Poe, though. That much was a given. You recorded vitals, noted a heart murmur with divided attention and you even forgot to start tracking a pilot’s heart rate until halfway through the run, which of course then had to be restarted. You weren’t living up to what you’d worked so hard for. You weren’t the Resistance’s head medic right now. You weren’t even half of her right now. 

But if given the choice, you wouldn’t want to go back to your old life, to who you were before the Resistance. She was weaker, a spineless shell of the medic you’d become in your time here. She was an instrument for the First Order, treated no differently than any of the faceless troopers that littered the aircraft. In the duration spent on their ships, you were surprised they hadn’t assigned you a string of numbers and actually allowed you the humanity of being called _doctor._ The way General Hux spat your title tucked itself tightly within the folds of your brain. It’s why you reacted so violently when Poe had called you a ' _fucking medic’._ For a split second, you were back on the Finalizer, Hux over your shoulder and whispering venom into your eardrums. You hadn’t been able to sleep that night, drowning the memories with your violent retching. 

That day had forced you to come to terms with your past, what it had done to you. You were damaged goods. 

Halfway through your last test and your slight existential crisis, a message had popped up onto the screen of your holopad from Jasti. 

_‘URGENT: GO TO YOUR QUARTERS AFTER WORK. IT’S TIME TO CELEBRATE.’_

So, you’d met Jasti and Ziff in your quarters that evening, cracking open a flask of firewater that Ziff _definitely_ wasn’t supposed to have. You hated the alcohol, but there was no better cause for celebration, or distraction, as the two filled you in. 

“But what I don’t get,” you took a small sip and scowled, “is _why_ he did it?” 

You passed the flask to Jasti, who hid her wide eyes by tilting her head back and gulping. Ziff made no such efforts and you frowned. Could they be any more transparent?

“You two know something,” you crossed your arms and leaned against your bed. Although you had the largest quarters out of the three of you, it still hardly accommodated company. So, the three of you sat on the floor in the space between the bed and the refresher. Ziff had one leg propped up, his hand hanging from his knee. Jasti sat crossed legged, closer to Ziff than normal as she took another swig. 

Maybe if you weren’t so _fucking relieved_ that Scoria was gone, you’d notice the fact that your two friends on the base were a hair’s breadth away from jumping eachother’s bones. 

“We might,” Ziff began, swiftly dodging Jasti’s swipe at his arm. He took the flask from her before she could take a third mouthful. 

Jasti felt heavy, but high on the feeling of being in such close proximity to Yolo Ziff. After seeing Poe in the hangar, Ziff and Jasti had given themselves a couple seconds to panic before shrugging it off and returning to their previous...engagement. Ziff had been more concerned than herself, trying to pull away and sprint after the Commander, but Jasti assured him that you would thank them later and silenced his ever-running mouth with her own. With her mind flooded with remembering the sensation of Ziff’s hands gripping her hips, her jaw, the column of her throat, Jasti subconsciously rested her hand on the thigh of his outstretched leg. 

Your eyes followed the movement. Ziff pretended not to notice, instead taking interest in screwing and unscrewing the cap on the flask. It was Jasti’s low, but contented hum that cemented your thoughts. 

You raised your eyebrows. “Really?”

Ziff shrugged. 

You snatched the flask from him, taking a proper amount this time. “Finally.” 

“Was it obvious?” Ziff asked. Jasti was still back in the hangar, mentally. 

You shrugged. “When your relationship is in the gutters, you become more attuned to those that aren’t.”

Ziff blushed. “We might have, uh, come to a _realization_ in the hangar. After, we were talking about the thread, about you and the Commander, and we think he overheard us.” 

“Dameron was probably in his x-wing polishing the controls - something he does religiously and _daily_. You didn’t think he would be there?” You questioned. 

“No? How do you know that?” 

“Unimportant,” you took another sip. “Why wouldn’t he come find me, then?” 

Ziff shrugged, and you tried not to let your mind run with the possibilities. A futile attempt it was, because you handed Ziff back his flask before flopping against your bed, leaning your head back so your neck rested on the curvature of the mattress. Closing your eyes, you tried to put yourself in Poe’s stark orange jumpsuit. 

So, you found out that once again your supposed soulmate was a fraud. Naturally, you confront her and boot her off the planet. That much makes sense. But at the same time, you overhear who actually _is_ your soulmate. Do you trust it? Do you believe it? 

Your gut tells you _no._ You _don’t._ Poe’s probably holed himself up somewhere, not unlike when he was smoking spice, grieving _another_ loss. You couldn’t blame him. Your stomach sinks at the thought, knowing that even for a short period of time, Poe felt happy. Scoria had told you that. It seemed so fragile; Poe’s happiness. Everything has carved him hollow, and he was _tired._ He probably wanted and needed his space, but the tinge in your arm wouldn’t allow it. How were you supposed to sit in your quarters, drinking firewater with your friends and ignoring the fact that Poe was somewhere on base, completely and utterly... _empty._

You took another swallow from the flask for good measure before getting up from your seated position. Jasti now had her head on Ziff’s shoulder, eyes closed as he played with her fingers on her leg. He traced the knuckle of her right pinky subconsciously, and it made your chest tighten. 

“I’m leaving,” you announced, eyeing the two before adding, “don’t fuck on my bed.

  
  


✗ ✗ ✗

  
  


The ache in your arm, radiating from your smallest knuckle to between the ball and socket in your shoulder, led you outside on the airstrip. The little red thread was deceiving. On the surface, it looked like it was tied neatly around your finger, yet you could feel it as though it was it’s own fiber in your tendons, your muscles. The thread seemed no different than any other mechanism in your body, except in the fact that it encompassed functions; It could be exposed like a nerve, flex your pinky finger like a tendon or move your body like a muscle. 

All coordinating synchronously to bring you closer to Poe. 

It wasn’t as exact as it was when it brought you to the storage room a few nights prior. The familiar whir of BB-8 rushing to bump into your shins lead you the rest of the way. 

Poe was laying atop the same hill from weeks ago. Occupying the same spot where he apologized for being an ass, and you coworker-zoned him. As you reached the crest of the hell, stopping mere meters from Poe’s body, BB-8 flew back down the hill. _Sneaky droid_. 

You eventually sat down next to him, crossing your legs and picking at the grass below you. The feeling was familiar, and you momentarily lost yourself in the fantasy that this moment was a second chance, to right the many wrongs you’d made over the last few weeks. Poe was mad about the ship orbiting Kessel, and you were dwelling on the mirrored action of you and Poe rubbing your respective fingers. Scoria, Ancin and the Coruscant pilots weren’t in the picture, your history with the First Order wasn’t at risk of getting exposed and it was the prime time for you to tell Poe you were his soulmate. 

A fantasy, indeed. 

Poe had his arms behind his head, his eyes closed as he basked under the starlight. You didn’t watch the way the light danced off the ridges of his cheekbones or the prominence of his nose. You couldn’t do this if you got pulled into his gravity. At a particularly aggressive rip of grass, Poe turned his head towards you, eyes now open. 

“I didn’t think it came off.” 

You paused before looking down. You weren’t in your usual white lab coat, buttoned up to your chin. One of the pilots, the other female besides Scoria, had gotten sick during the running portion and had an unfortunate aim. You still wore your standard black leggings, but you had changed quickly into a long, beige tunic. The freedom of having your chest exposed to the night air was strange, but not unwelcome. Poe wanted to rip his hair at the roots from the presence of your _fucking_ collarbones. 

“Bad day at the lab,” you supplied. “Feels weird. Less proper, more casual.” 

“Casual looks good on you,” Poe turned back to the stars. “Try it out more often.”

“But then how will people know I’m the big, bad doctor?” The words held a truth you hoped Poe would never know. 

He looked at you from the corner of his eye, a familiar pull at the corner of his lips that made your blood feel warm. “They’ll know.”

You turned your body, now sitting cross legged facing Poe’s side. You continued to pick at the blades below and flick them onto his stomach. His words unsettled you, regardless of the teasing in his tone. Scoria’s accusations left you feeling exposed, feeling like you had the First Order insignia branded on your forehead. It would probably be less conspicuous than your current behavior. Poe could tell that you had been unsettled, something had reverberated to your core but he didn’t mention it. He didn’t have the capacity to take on anything else. 

“Wanna talk?” you offered. 

He moved one of his hands from behind his head to swat the grass off of him and back towards you. “Probably should, huh?” 

You shrugged. 

“So,” he began. You waited on baited breath. “She’s gone.” 

“So I heard,” you nodded. 

“You seem like you already know,” Poe pushed himself to lean back on his elbows. You quit your grass plucking and decided to busy yourself by fumbling with a loose thread on the end of your tunic. You shrugged again. 

“I don’t...have the words. Right now, anyways,” he looked down at his lap, his eyes wincing as he took in a shaky breath. “I’m over it. I’ve never been more over it.” 

“I’m sorry.” You meant it. 

The words hung heavy between you, filled with everything that had happened between now and meeting him in the briefing room. You’d say it a million times, in every language known in the galaxy if it would mean something to him. You’d single handedly take down the First Order if it meant that you could take everything back. 

“I know a little Shyriiwook,” you offered with a small smile before clearing your throat and trying your best at the Wookiee language. He looked up at you quickly, shaking his head. 

“Don’t even think about it.”

He finally met your eyes and you gave him a sad smile. The longer you looked at him, the more your eyes began to sting. 

“I’m sorry, too.” 

You furrowed your eyebrows. 

“For the other night. In the, uh, storage room.” 

You shook your head and tried to shrug off the memory even though it stuck to the roof of your mouth in the worst way. The exact moment that repeated itself in your thoughts as you laid down to sleep at night. The feel of your lips on his skin, the bump of the blood rushing through his veins. The rumble of his chest as he groaned out a name that wasn’t yours. 

“I think about it a lot,” Poe let his head fall back. “How bad I fucked up. How good that night could’ve turned out.” 

Your heart was in your throat, every part of you throbbing at the unsaid, ‘ _what if?’._ Maybe Poe had thirst dreams about you, too? That was fodder for your inevitable sleepless night. Poe, alone in his quarters, tossing and turning and _hot_ and bothered just thinking about your presence looming above him. Continuing on from what was cut off two nights prior. 

Poe changed the subject. “I’m sure your friends saw me in the hangar earlier while they were... _together_ today.” 

“Did they jump each other in the hangar or something?” You asked, confused by his vocal inflection. You hadn’t gotten the full story from either of the two, but you made a mental note to seek them out about it. 

“No, but their kissing showed the whole hangar just how overdue it was,” Poe laughed. 

“They’re definitely fucking in my bed right now,” you grimaced. Poe let out an unrestrained snort. 

“Oh, no doubt.”

The air between you two fell back into an uncomfortable silence.

“They did mention seeing you, though,” you broke the silence, steering the conversation back on track. 

“Is it true?” Poe asked bluntly. 

“Would you believe me if it was?” You responded before your brain could convince you otherwise. Even though it was out in the open, things still felt...off. 

“I don’t know.” 

You eyed the thread floating in the space between, buoyant in the air. You wish you could touch it, wrap it around your fingers and _pull_. After all Poe had been through, the newfound information of you being yet another possible soulmate was nothing short of trivial. How many names had been on his list of potentials? To him, you were just another opportunity of disappointment, of false hope. You couldn’t blame him for it. But _maybe_ if you could show him the string, tangle it between you, use it to cut the circulation to his finger - _maybe_ he would believe you. 

“I’m sorry.” You meant it even more. 

Poe remained silent, stewing on his words carefully. You watched the stars hang in the sky behind his downturned head. 

“I’m going to Jakku.”

“What’s on Jakku?” There was nothing on Jakku but sand and scavengers. 

“An opportunity. A way to cut off one of the heads to the First Order.” He was being ambiguous in his details.

“Leia?” you clarified. He nodded. It didn’t matter if Poe fully understood what he was being sent to Jakku for. He would follow her orders to the Unknown Regions if he was told to. You all would.

“We’re getting desperate.” 

You had felt the atmosphere shift on the base, especially after the mission failure concerning the ship near Kessel. The Resistance hadn’t had any concrete leads or intel in _too_ long, the First Order had been _too_ quiet, and it left an uneasy feeling in everyone’s stomach. The galaxy was on the cusp of collapse, and the Resistance had limited moves before checkmate. If Jakku was the Resistance’s last hope, Poe had to go. 

“So we won’t talk about it now,” Poe began. “It can wait until the fate of the galaxy is decided.” 

You weren’t confident that _you_ could wait, but soulmates didn’t matter if there wasn’t a galaxy to exist in with them, so you nodded in agreement. Poe’s eyes traced the path between your hand and his, imagining his own red thread. With the others, he’d never been able to conceptualize it. Now? He felt like it was actually there, cutting through the blades of the grass until it ended in a neat knot at the base of your pinky. He could feel the cut of the string into the skin of his strong finger, the way it pulled as you still picked at the edges of your tunic. The visual stirred in his chest, mucking up a feeling that blurred the sharp edges of fear he had grown accustomed to. He blinked, momentarily wondering if it had actually materialized for him, but it was gone. The sense of potentiality, of concrete evidence that could’ve solved everything disappeared as quickly as it came. Poe pretended he didn’t notice the momentary tightness in his chest.

“I’ll see you after Jakku?” 

Poe nodded. “After Jakku.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sooooo we have a little plot convergence as we enter TFA!!!! I'm not following the plot of these movies to a T because honestly they were buns. This update is a little shorter again I apologize, but now we are getting into the meat of the story! As usual, love you guys. thank you for the feedback xoxo. 
> 
> my tumblr is agntofhydra - come chat and bother me i love it


	9. NINE // OBEDIENT

**SAWBONES**

**NINE // OBEDIENT**

Blue was _definitely_ Poe’s color.

The hue from the hologram illuminated and enhanced every feature on his face - the prominent brow, the curve of his cheekbones and the angle of his jaw. It forced you to notice the way he’d lick his lips between sentences or pull his brows together slightly when listening to someone speak. He had made it to Jakku. The meeting with Lor San Tekka was set and BB-8 didn’t like sand.

“How was your flight, Commander?” Leia asked, circling the table and stopping once the two of you were shoulder to shoulder. Poe swallowed, clenching his jaw before responding.

“It was fine. I’ve flown further distances than Jakku.” Leia narrowed her eyes and Poe resisted the urge to roll his.

The meeting room contained a handful of people, limited only to those who could be trusted with the knowledge that the Resistance was about to obtain the map to Luke Skywalker. Leia had told you this morning after Poe left.

“He didn’t tell you,” she surmised as the two of you walked the halls of D’Qar.

You were fiddling with the fastener of the belt around your waist. Poe told you that casual looked good on you. It _felt_ good on you, you had realized. The white coat made you stiff and sterile. You were now trying out the typical outfit Doctor Kalonia wore, the base’s previous medic. She was someone you had looked up to when you shadowed her - she was loose, flexible. She changed with the atmosphere of the base, where you felt as though your rigidity was always fighting against it. The loose tunic and brown vest was loose but fitted, and it was nice to not feel the high collar of the white coat brush against your jaw. You’d try out casual.

“He didn’t tell me,” you repeated as Leia nudged your arm to stop your movements. You smoothed down the vest, pulling it lower over the black leggings.

“He’s getting the map,” Leia smiled softly. “We’re going to find Luke.”

You had stopped walking. “ _The_ map? How?”

Leia winked and walked away as you stood frozen in place.

So now, you were in the meeting room, admiring Poe’s torso standing tall in the middle of the holotable as the rest of the room was listening to his words and planning the next steps. The meeting continued on, you not paying too close as per usual, and when it ended you headed back to your office in the medbay. There wasn’t much to do until Poe met with Lor San Tekka except wait. The First Order was no doubt close to learning about this exchange if they hadn’t already, and Poe was to fly the hell out of Jakku as soon as he got the piece.

Once in your office, you noticed your holopad blinking. Sitting down, you tapped the screen and Poe’s familiar frame blinked into existence.

“Hi,” you said, confused.

“I feel…” Poe paused, trying to choke the words out, “not good.”

You raised your eyebrows. “Not good?”

“I don’t know how to describe it. Just... _weird.”_

You chewed your bottom lip, thinking. “Jakku is a smaller planet than D’Qar, and you haven’t been on any major flights in awhile. I’m sure your body got a little too accustomed to D’Qar’s gravity,” you supplied. “The fluids in your body from the weaker gravity rise, so you’re just disoriented. It’ll pass.”

Poe visibly relaxed, nodding. “Fluids rising. Sure, yeah. Okay. Makes sense.”

You blinked at him.

The two of you watched each other, Poe teetering on the edge of opening his mouth as the hologram periodically distorted his features. You waited.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Poe said quickly before blinking away as fast as he appeared. You couldn’t restrain your huff of disappointment.

It was probably nerves, you thought, but Poe didn’t get nervous. These _were_ special circumstances, though. It would be more concerning if Poe was unaffected by the fact that he was about to be the only person in the galaxy to find Luke Skywalker. So, you decided, it was nerves. You were nervous _for_ him. You knew just how fast the First Order could find him, or how they could completely decimate Jakku until they did.

You wondered who they would send - Phasma and her stormtroopers were a guarantee, but would they send _him_? Would he see to it himself that the map was acquired by the First Order? The more you thought about it, the more it made sense and sank in your stomach like a rock. _Of course_ Kylo would get the map himself - he wouldn’t trust it in the hands of a nameless stormtrooper.

You hadn’t thought about Kylo for as long as you could, you’d suppressed everything from your time with the First Order. With recent events, it couldn’t be avoided. It all came back in bits in pieces - Hux seething down your neck, the orders you’d received on how to ‘treat’ your patients. Now, it was Kylo’s invisible hands around your neck and the way your body had been pressed against the wall and reflected off Captain Phasma’s helmet.

It was the way Kylo Ren’s helmet had been inches from your face, his modulated voice telling you to “ _do as you’re told.”_

It felt different, though. The wall you had been pinned against on the Finalizer wasn’t a wall, it was a chair. Your wrists and ankles bound. You were bleeding, and sweaty and spent. Kylo was looming before you, and you lacked the strength to pull against your restraints. It was dark wherever you were - it was always dark on the Finalizer, but this room was dark in a way where light could barely exist.

“ _Comfortable_?” Kylo’s voice sank into your chest, stepping out from the shadows.

 _This never happened_ , your mind screamed at you. _He never did this to you._

Kylo hadn’t. Besides the usual abuse of the Force, he had never shackled you, or even seen you in a room outside of the medbay. _Where the fuck were you_?

The panic forced the adrenaline to progress through your veins, leaning your head up from its reclined position.

“ _Not really,”_ you responded. But no, it wasn’t your voice that returned the question. It was deeper, held the same timbre you’d familiarized yourself with over the last couple months. A sound you’d grown to love, to crave. But not like this.

The realization coincided with the intimate sting of your muscle fibers fraying, pulling you out of the...dream? Illusion? Whatever you had pulled yourself out of filled your mouth with bile and your veins with white, hot _fear._

You had to get to Leia.

Your body was on autopilot, your feet flying you across the base on instinct. And then you found her, stared at her with wide eyes while hers were somber. You deflated. You never came to Leia’s office, you were surprised you even knew where it was. But when you arrived, she had already been expecting you. The minute the doors slid open and your eyes met, everything about her demeanor told you she had been bracing herself for your arrival.

“They already have him, don’t they?” you choked on the words, feeling yourself grow with cracks like you were ceramic. _This_ was vulnerability. This is what it felt like to open yourself up to someone, only to be on the cusp of losing them. You couldn’t look at Leia after she gave you a reluctant nod. You turned your head to look down at the string, tethering yourself so him even though he was halfway across the galaxy. For once, the presence of the thread was welcome. It meant he was alive.

“The First Order came, slaughtered everyone on Tuanul. We have reason to believe they took Poe to get the map.”

You didn’t respond, your eyes still fixed on the thread.

“He won’t hurt him,” Leia tried to reassure you. She wanted to reach out to you, offer you some semblance of comfort but she knew nothing could soften the impact of Poe being captured by the First Order.

“You don’t know that. You don’t _know_ him,” you said, clenching your right hand into a fist to test the strand, make sure it was actually there. When it pulled along with the movement, you continued, “On the Finalizer. The things he said, he did. Poe’s not going to give up the map and Ren isn’t going to accept that.”

This time, Leia did reach out. She grasped your right hand with both of hers. You’d never seen Leia so serious, austere and collected but disordered at the same time. You’d all known it was a possibility, but nobody wanted to actually _believe_ that Poe could get captured. In everyone’s mind, he was this idyllic figure - untouchable. Until now.

“I do ,” she squeezed your hands tightly. “I do know him,” her voice was raw, the words rusty with neglect. “Kylo Ren is my son.”

✗ ✗ ✗

Poe knew that one of these days his mouth would get him in trouble. But he always thought it would lead to a fight in a Cantina, or a fast flight off of a planet. He didn’t expect, but wasn’t completely surprised that it got him a front row seat to the wrath of Kylo Ren. Even bruised and bloody and beaten, Poe regarded him with a smirk.

“No one has been able to get out of you what you _did_ with the _map_.” Kylo would’ve definitely spat on Poe had he not been wearing a helmet. In the back of his mind, Poe thought that he definitely would have created a better mask had he been the leader of the First Order.

Kylo’s hand came up, and before Poe could critique that too, his head flew back to hit the chair. It felt like his brain was being _shredded_ apart. Like Poe was in your medbay, lying in one of your beds as you prodded at his brain with a pencil like you were stewing soup. Poe would do anything to be lying in one of your medical cots, looking up at you hovering over him.

The sensation stopped.

“Interesting,” Kylo’s hand fell to his side. Poe's chest rose and fell rapidly.

“She’s part of the Resistance now,” Kylo clenched his fists at his side.

Poe’s stomach sank, and it must have shown on his face as Kylo let out a huff of air through his mask. _He saw that?_ Poe thought. _That’s fucking cheating._

“You two seem close. Tell me about her.”

Poe narrowed his eyes at the masked man in front of him, his jaw clenched shut.

“I bet she’s changed. Different from who she was here.” Kylo was testing him, but Poe couldn’t subdue the furrow of his brow. He didn’t like that he knew who you were and couldn’t hide it. He didn’t really try to, either.

“You don’t know?” Poe could hear the smirk underneath the mask, through the vocal encoder.

Poe clenched his jaw tighter.

“She was good. _Obedient,”_ Kylo taunted. “Did whatever I told her to.”

“Shut _up.”_ Poe wondered if he could become force sensitive by the sheer power of will. If so, he would choke the life out of Kylo fucking Ren, send him into the wall and listen to him gargle on last bits of oxygen to enter his lungs. He wanted to rip off the mask, strip him of whatever semblance of power he had over Poe and make him _wish_ he never mentioned you in front of him.

Kylo’s helmet tilted downwards almost imperceptibly. If Poe had not been imagining smoking blaster holes in his torso, he would’ve missed it. Wouldn’t have noticed the way Kylo’s helmet was tilted at a direct angle towards Poe’s left hand.

“Sawbones found you, after all.”

“What the fuck is a Sawbones?” Poe’s finger throbbed at the word.

“She was obedient. So much so, she earned herself a nickname. It started amongst the storm troopers, but it caught on.” Kylo talked closer to Poe, got right in his face as he fought against the restraints. “I guess you didn’t know.”

“The Resistance doesn’t appreciate her potential. You and your leaders are _soft_ ,” Kylo spat the words. “That is why you’ll lose.”

“Says the one who doesn’t have the map.”

Kylo stepped back, and again, Poe wished he would just keep his mouth shut.

“Not for long,” Kylo rose his hand again and Poe tensed every muscle in his body, shielding Kylo out of his head for as long as he could until the Force threw his head back and Poe saw stars. He fought his head back again, grunting against the pain until it felt like Kylo’s fingers had tucked themselves in between a specific groove of his brain. They dug until finally pulling the image of BB-8 on Jakku. The duress stopped, and Poe’s consciousness soon followed. His brain felt liquified, but still it worked to protect him from the trauma.

In the black behind his eyes, the only color before him was the line of the red thread stretching for what seemed like lightyears. The black wasn’t familiar - it wasn’t cut by the light of stars, or broken up by an asteroid belt or a distant planet. It wasn’t the galaxy he’d fallen in love with when his mother brought him along to orbit Yavin-4. It wasn’t the galaxy he’d found solace in when she had soon after died, nor was it the same place he’d successfully completed the L’ulo Stand before meeting Leia. It wasn’t the galaxy that ultimately brought him to you.

But he was floating like it was, and the gravity of space was pulling him along the line, closer to whatever, _whomever_ was on the other end.

✗ ✗ ✗

FX-7 had already given you a fourth dose of anesthetic, but nothing could dull the searing pain radiating up your right arm. Something was pulling your arm apart cell by cell, and then hastily stitching it back together. You could barely hold onto consciousness. You felt _him_. Somehow. Halfway across the galaxy, you could feel him digging through Poe’s brain. You’d collapsed in front of Leia when it had started.

“He’s your fucking kid?” You were incredulous. She’d explained everything, adding extra emphasis on how she was sure Ben still had light in him. That he could be brought back.

She was next to you on the bed, subduing whatever pain she could in her limited capabilities, but it was like putting a band aid on a ruptured aortic aneurysm. You appreciated the effort, but it didn’t do shit.

“He’s gonna tell Poe. About me,” your eyes were closed so tight you threatened damage to the sclera or cornea, but the pressure on the vagus nerve worked to slow your heart rate and keep you from going into cardiac arrest from the pain. Leia grasped more firmly on your right hand, her invisible presence traveling its way up your body, but the universe wouldn't let up that easy.

“Sweetheart,” her other hand smoothed back the hair sticking to the sweat on your forehead. You wanted to trash in the bed, but you kept your composure and endured. Like you always had. “You know Poe too well to worry about that.”

How fucking selfish could you be - your soulmate was in the hands of Kylo Ren, the terror of the First Order and you were _still_ worried about your secret? If Poe made it back home, you’d tell him. Your thoughts stilled, fixated on the word. Home. Was D’Qar home to you? Or was it just a brief stop in whatever the universe had in store for you? You hoped for the latter. You couldn’t see the remainder of your life being spent underground when you had come from so much more. Poe would never stay tethered to one place for too long, and once this was all over, you were confident you’d follow him anywhere in the galaxy.

Imagining your life with Poe, sitting behind him in an x-wing he’d never get rid of, insisting that it would get passed down.

“I’ll die in it,” Poe would say if you ever brought it up. “Send it out to space with my body inside. Let it get lost in the Unknown Regions.”

And you’d playfully knock your shoulder into his, laughing at the thought but knowing he’d never been more serious. He’d teach your kids how to fly in it, just like how he’d learned in his mother’s RZ-1 A-wing interceptor from her time in the Rebellion. But unlike his mother, Poe would stick around. For them, and for you.

You’d fight the idea, insisting you couldn’t handle any more pilots in your life. Your kids would be medics, better than their mother. They’d travel planet to planet, repairing a broken galaxy. They’d do what you couldn’t - heal more than those they would hurt.

“I’m going,” you spoke, unscrewing your eyelids. You blinked away the dots swimming in your vision before leaning up on the bed and swinging your legs over the side. You heard FX-7 let out it’s usual mechanical grunt of frustration.

“If it was smart, I’d be with you, but it isn’t that simple. We don’t have the resources for an extraction of that scale,” Leia insisted.

“It’s _Poe.”_ Resources be damned.

Leia nodded. “It’s Poe. And he’ll get himself out of this. We both know that.”

If anyone could talk themselves out of the clutches of the First Order, it would be Poe fucking Dameron. Constantly, you had to remind yourself to give him more credit. He’d earned his title, and he deserved more faith than what you put into him. You were so terrified of losing him, and knowing that you had fucked up _so hard_ in the beginning made you desperately want the chance to mend what you had destroyed. So you put him on this pedestal, on the highest shelf to keep him safe and out of reach and never considered that Poe was woven with Cortosis. He was Beskar. He was made of the strongest materials in the galaxy, and you had to trust in that.

You looked Leia in the eyes, the air in the room falling still.

“Get him back,” you pulled your hand from her grip. “Or I will kill him myself.”

You’d do anything for Leia - you’d throw yourself in a sarlacc pit, haul a ship full of rathtars or shoot yourself into space if she said so. But in this instance, you doubted her objectivity. She’d lost her parents, adoptive and biological, her home planet, abandoned by her son and her brother and distanced herself from her husband. The grief had to catch up somewhere, somehow. Ben Solo was, understandably, the chink in her armor. Poe was yours.

Leia understood your emotions, the wax and wane of anger and fear was a sensation all too familiar. It was the first time she’d seen you stand up for yourself, plant your feet and stand firm in something you believed in. For the first time, you weren’t abiding by the rules or by others. You were guided by your gut and whatever it would take to get Poe back. She couldn’t fight the smile from spreading across her features.

“Take out that Hux first. He unsettles me.”

Your hardened demeanor broke and you let out a huff of laughter, the tension in your body

dissipating. “Hux, Phasma and _then_ Kylo. I’m serious.”

Leia nodded. “I know you are.”

“I can’t lose him,” you rubbed your pinky. “I just got him.”

“Ben wouldn’t. He’ll get the map, and then he’ll use Poe to negotiate.”

You raised a brow. “The First Order? Negotiate? You know what they had me do.”

Leia shrugged. “For his mother, I hope he would.”

You were still sitting on the edge of one of the medbay beds, FX-7 leaving long ago after determining it would not need to inject you with a fifth dose of not only anesthetic, but sedative as well.

“I saw myself in that room, in that chair,” You looked up to Leia. “I _was_ Poe. I saw Kylo on the Finalizer through his eyes.”

Leia let out a laugh. “The universe is funny that way. You have no idea how many times I woke up in a particular stressful situation that Han had gotten himself into. The thread warns you, I think.”

She patted your shoulder, giving you yet another comforting smile and wink before leaving the medbay. You kept your solemn facade up until she left. As soon as her figure exited the open double doors, you all but sprinted to your office to grab your holopad. You typed out a message to Ziff.

_“Want to go on a ride?”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> omg omg omg. kylo ren vs reader who will win??? this chapter was actually so fun to write i do be on my feels tonight so it's definitely got an extra gallon of angst. keep up with the love and support - i appreciate it! xoxox
> 
> my tumblr is agntofhydra - come chat w me :-)


	10. TEN // PULL, TUG

**SAWBONES**

**TEN // PULL, TUG**

“I’m usually game for anything, but _holy fuck_.”

You winced. 

“How are going to save Poe if we die in the process?” Ziff was hysterical, and you gave up on trying to hush him a while ago. It was a lot to ask of Ziff - a rescue mission from Poe who was quite literally in the grasp of Kylo Ren. Periodically, the pain flared. Kylo was playing with him and he knew that you could feel it too. 

“Simple. We just..don’t die.” 

Ziff preferred to use his words to calm down a situation, but you were beyond reason. Poe was at stake, and there were no combinations of words that could change your mind. You were firm in your beliefs, headstrong. And _really fucking stubborn._

He gaped at you, running his hands through his already messy blonde hair. He was disheveled when you had messaged him, the zipper was caught on his wrinkled white undershirt and his neck was littered in angry, purple bruises when he arrived in the hangar. You blinked at his appearance, and he merely rolled back his shoulders as he pulled the fabric from the zipper of his jumpsuit. You ignored it, though you knew you would absolutely grill Jasti on her new sex life once you had Poe back under the same stratoosphere. 

“If we go on the Finalizer, we will die. At least I will. I don’t have that weird beef you do with the First Order.” 

He was right - you could see Kylo force throwing Ziff’s body into a wall, a sickening crack preceding his body falling limp to the floor. But you’d already thought of that, and that’s why you weren’t planning on going on the Finalizer. You knew Kylo, and you had to be at least three steps ahead of him to stand a chance. 

“We’re going to Jakku,” you correct him. 

“You want me to take you to Jakku?” Ziff is puzzled, and you nod to confirm. If you could fly a ship, you’d already be in hyperspace. However, if someone held a blaster to your head and told you to point East, you’d be a goner. Your feet belonged on solid ground and your hands in open wounds, not on the steering controls of an X-Wing. 

“Kylo took Poe for a reason,” you answered Ziff before he could ask. “Poe must have hidden the map, and Ren has been occupied with Poe to search for it himself. We know where to go, and we can get it first.” 

Ziff opens his mouth again, and you cut him off by informing him that BB-8 has the map. 

“We don’t have the training,” Ziff frowned. “I only know aerial combat, and I don’t think you know...any combat” 

You conveniently scratched the side of your neck, turning your head to inspect Ziff’s X-Wing to your right. 

“Stars, you are full of surprises,” Ziff said, his jaw nearly unhinged with his surprise. 

“I know my way around a blaster, that’s all,” you mumbled.

You had had to get out of the First Order’s clutches somehow. But Ziff didn’t know about her, about _Sawbones_ , and you’d keep it that way. Neither he nor Jasti did, and they were the first real friendships you’d had since...you couldn’t remember. You didn’t have friends in medical school - you had opponents, competitors. Every word could and would be used against you to get a leg up. You’d just kept your enemies close. But now, you could keep Jasti and Ziff - rely on them. Which is what you were doing, but you could feel Ziff’s trepidation, his severe hesitation to assist you on what probably was a suicide mission. You couldn’t blame him. He had someone to lose if he did this, and so did you if you didn’t. 

“I can’t,” Ziff said after mulling on the decision while you were lost in your head. “There’s too many unknowns. Not to mention General Organa would be _pissed.”_

You weren’t worried about Leia in the slightest. She’d done worse. 

“So, I’m sorry. But I can’t go with you to Jakku.” 

You deflated, but only from disappointment. You weren’t surprised, and you knew how selfish you were being. To be fair, you did consider the sacrifice Ziff would have to make by going with you. You just didn’t have anyone else to ask. 

“I’ll go,” a voice sounds behind your shoulder, and it knocks the air out of your lungs as you whip your head around. 

“I’ll take you to Jakku,” Ancin is casually wiping his greased hands on a towel. 

Both you and Ziff blink at him. Ziff takes considerably less time to recover from his intrusion. 

“Sweet,” Ziff claps you on the shoulder. “Good luck, Doc.” He says it so sincerely it makes your heart twist, and he all but sprints out of the hangar, no doubt back to whatever space Jasti is keeping warm for him. You desperately wished you could switch places. 

You’d never been the domestic type, but you’d entertain the idea of keeping the bed warm until Poe came back after a flight, or him doing the same for you after a hard day in your medbay. Maybe it would keep you from sleeping at your desk and finding ways to justify it. You could just...return to each other.

But the galaxy was cruel, and Poe was the Resistance’s pilot commander and currently in the hands of the First Order. And you were the Resistance’s head medic and currently about to undergo a very risky, illogical rescue mission. With Cane Ancin piloting. You hadn’t spoken since his ominous warning that Poe was not the man you thought he was, and you had been putting off his physical exam because of it. 

But now, for him to arrive like some kind of hero? Help you save the man he had told you not to trust? The timing of his appearance was too convenient, his tone too casual. 

You looked at him a second longer, and he raised his eyebrows at your hesitation, silently asking you, _“Well?”_

“What’s in it for you?” you asked, hands crossed around your chest. In your white coat, the high neck shielded the swell of your breasts as your arms pushed against them, but the tunic you were wearing didn’t. The deep cut of it exposed the curves, and Cane Ancin definitely noticed. Self-conscious, you dropped your hands to rest on your hips. 

“A chance to have a beautiful woman as my co-pilot,” he winked as he threw the rag over his shoulder. He lessened the distance between you two with slow, calculated. He gave you the chance to step back, but you stayed put. It made his smirk deepen. 

“What do you think, Doc?” Ancin’s smile was dangerous, dipped in ulterior motives and it made your stomach flutter. You wanted to be disgusted, sickened by the way his broad shoulders and thick biceps strained against the suit. A lock of dark curls dangeled past his temple, tempting you to tuck them back. You imperceptibly bit the inside of your cheeks as he closed the distance, standing barley a meter away. 

“Is he worth it?”

“Yes,” you answered without hesitation. You felt a familiar twinge, a pinch shoot up your arm. At this point, the pain was comforting. Reminding you that Poe was still on the other side. But you had to think logically now. You were going to Jakku to not only retrieve BB-8 and the map to Luke, but you were also hinging on the hope that Kylo would take Poe, use him as bait to get to BB-8. They’d never find the droid otherwise. A lot could happen in between getting Poe, BB-8 and the map. For instance, Ancin would most certainly double cross you at some point. You wouldn’t delude yourself into assuming anything different - you’d only hope he’d do it once you had everything. 

“Then what are we waiting for?” Ancin asked. 

“The catch,” you deadpanned. “To hear what you want in exchange?” 

“I already answered your question, _a beautiful woman - “_

You cut him off, “as your co-pilot.” Rolling your eyes, you crossed your arms again - breasts be damned. “You’re going to have to do better.” 

Cane Ancin’s features softened in a way you hadn’t seen in the days he’d been on base. You’d hardly seen him without a smirk, but now a shadow had cast over his features. 

“The First Order took everything from me,” he pulled the rag from his shoulder and began twisting it with his fingers. “It’s why I came here. I want to hit them where it hurts. This seems like the best opportunity I’m going to get.” 

Well. You hadn’t expected that. The man in front of you was giving you an actual, _genuine_ answer? 

“Okay,” you told him. He was _so_ full of shit, but he didn’t need to know you knew that. “Then let’s go,” you gave him a small, sad smile to seal the deal. He pursed his lips and nodded, leading you towards his own ship. 

Your hand ghosted over the fabric covering your tailbone, subtly tracing the outline of the blaster you had tucked between your waistband before following. 

✗ ✗ ✗

  
  


“General,” a voice came from behind her left shoulder. Leia turned, meeting the nervous face of one of her analysts. He wrung his hands in front of him and she narrowed her eyes at the perspiration forming on his brow. 

“Yes?” 

“I - uh, need to inform you that one of the Coruscanti ships has departed without authorization,” he swallowed. 

“I heard it,” Leia blinked. “Are you able to give me a location on our doctor?” 

He cleared his throat, “Yes, General. We believe she’s on the ship.” 

“Cane Ancin’s ship?” she specified. He nodded. 

Closing her eyes, Leia took a breath, held it, and then released. No, she wasn’t surprised. Yes, she had hoped you would’ve waited longer - thought it out more. But she knew what it felt like to be impulsive, to feel like any second of hesitation could be a second where you were _too late_. She knew it too well. 

“Navigation was able to pull the coordinates - they’re on their way to Jakku. What do we do?” 

“Nothing,” she answered, frowning. The Resistance didn’t have the ships or men to spare to trail them. If they did, they would’ve been sent out the second they heard about Poe. 

And for the first time in several decades, Leia felt powerless. She felt like she was back challenging the Empire with just Luke, Han and Chewie. She, as hard has she tried to keep her composure, felt her foothold slipping. What kind of Resistance effort couldn’t spare the manpower to save their best pilot? The man who actually gave them a fighting chance against the First Order and the reconstitution of the Sith? It was a heavy cross to carry, and it was immature of her to bear all the weight. She had Holdo, and Ackbar and countless other constituents to toil over this with, yet she couldn’t help but feel personally responsible. It was her own son. 

She allowed herself that minute of vulnerability, a brief moment to feel sorry for herself before turning herself to the holotable, scanning her eyes over the plethora of maps, and coordinates.

“Divert whatever we can spare to keeping an eye on them,” Leia busied her hands by tapping on the table.

✗ ✗ ✗ 

No one ever told you that hyperspace was so...quiet. Or so precise. Ancin quickly began to regret his decision upon realizing that you ultimately had no clue about anything regarding this ‘ _rescue mission_ ’. In his head, he used the term loosely. 

You felt like a youngling - you’ve never felt more clueless than being stuck in the front seat of Ancin’s x-wing. You tried to think of the circuitry in front of you in anatomical terms, it was the only way anything Ancin told you would make sense. He was the central nervous system, making sure the two of you made it to Jakku instead of obliterating into a star or a nearby supernova. You were, very loosely, the peripheral nervous system. Maker forbid the opportunity arise, but you were given a crash course into the weapon systems. 

“Just don’t touch anything,” he had grunted, a series of clicks sounding behind you. “Sit pretty.” 

You wanted to run your hands down the various buttons and levers just for the comment. But, for the sake of Poe and yourself, you stayed quiet. 

So the two of you were funneling your way through hyperspace. You wanted to lose yourself in the way the light streaked across the canopy, but all you could focus on was the string. You were afraid if you gave yourself any moment of pause, it would disappear. 

“What if he’s dead?” Ancin said nonchalantly. You knew he could see your firm expression in the reflection of the window. 

“He’s not. I’d know.”

“So I guess it is real, huh? This string theory,” Ancin chuckled to himself, but it didn’t hold the same timbre it usually did. It was sad, and you chided yourself from picking up on it. Another person in your path, exploited by the stupid soulmate tether. 

“Sometimes I wish it wasn’t,” you told him. “I’d be back on D’Qar right now, minding my own business in the comfort of my medbay.” 

“It wasn’t much of a life you had there, Doc,” Cane flicked a switch. “You only miss it because it was easy. _Comfortable._ You need to explore what’s beyond that.”

“I’ve had hard,” you snapped at him. “I’ve been to hell and back - I think I deserve _comfortable._ ”

Cane pursed his lips, sensing the metaphorical line he was toeing. Silence was safe, and you were thankful he chose to keep his mouth shut. You let yourself simmer in your fantasy of an alternate life when a sudden jerk on the string forced the muscles in your arm to spasm at the intrusion. 

You’d nicked a knob in your movement, and Ancin was quick to swear and return it to its original position. 

“What did I say about not touching anything?” He double checked his action. “What the fuck was that?” 

“Sometimes it hurts. The string gets tugged and feels like it’s pulling every one of my nerve fibers with it,” you held your hand to your chest as you felt another one jerk you. A series of them followed, and you wanted to scream - both in pain and frustration. You grit your teeth before you noticed the set of tugs repeated themselves. 

Three long tugs, followed by another long one, a small jerk, and then another long tug. 

**OK.**

The ministrations stopped, and you stared at your finger, wide-eyed and dizzy from the pain. 

You tried to move your left hand, to wrap your fingers around the thread but like usual, your digits passed through it like air. _How the fuck was he doing that?_

_Pull, tug tug. Pull, pull, pull. Pull, tug, pull, tug._

**DOC.**

You exhaled heavily from the pain, recording and decoding the movements in your head. You grasped again at the empty air and groaned. 

“You good?” Ancin asked, but his voice was so far away. It didn’t sound like he was only a meter behind you - it was like he was talking to you from across a room. You felt heavy, like you were being sucked into a vacuum. The starlight continued to streak behind your now closed eyelids, and you gave into whatever was drawing you in. 

You couldn’t feel the seat of the co-pilot seat beneath you. It was as though you were floating in black water, body riding the ripples of whatever you were in. Your eyes opened, the red thread floating in your field of vision. This time, when your hands grasped they found purchase around the dangerously thin thread. It cut into the skin of your palm, and you allowed yourself a moment to relish in the tangibility. 

_Pull, tug, pull pull. Tug. Tug, tug tug._

**YES,** you answered. 

The thread fell slack. You watched it hang until pulling it taught again. You couldn’t wait for his response. 

**SAFE -** You wracked your brain for the correct combination before adding - **?**

Watching the string float in the imaginary breeze was torture in itself, you’d much rather choose the searing pain that usually accompanied the movements of the string. At least then you would know it was real. Right now, you felt weightless. Was it a hallucination? Or was it your brain comprehending the pain and making sense of an inconsequential pattern by creating this dream abyss? Pretending you were talking to Poe? 

He should’ve known better than to hesitate in his response. It was a yes or a no, but each came with its own complications. To say _yes_ would be a lie, and you wouldn’t believe it anyways. No doubt word had reached that he was currently holed up in the Finalizer right now, gifted with the occasional company of Kylo Ren. To Poe’s embarrassment, Kylo had gotten what he wanted in no time. What Poe didn’t understand, however, was why he kept coming back. Time would pass, Poe couldn’t tell how much, and Kylo would return to probe him about you. At first he disguised his questions about the Resistance and their medical competency, how they recovered from ‘ _devastating losses’._ Poe couldn’t contain his remarks. 

“She’s _more_ than competent,” Poe had answered, wanting to hear the sneer he was so good at bringing out behind Kylo’s mask. That time though, might have been too far. After Kylo would come through his brain, Poe would return to the abyss. He would sit in the darkness, watching the thread float. Cruel fate would have Poe see it now. He could only hope that it was actually you on the other end.

The last time he had seen Kylo, the meeting that brought Poe into the abyss currently, he had been more violent. Kylo had visibly been agitated upon entering. He held himself rigid, his saber dormant in his tight grip. Poe knew to keep his mouth shut this time. It was the way his mask tilted slowly down towards Poe’s restrained left hand, the slow movement back to center, and the calm but calculated steps Kylo took forward that ran a chill down Poe’s spine. 

“I want her,” Kylo said. “You will find her for me.” 

Poe blinked, the dried blood from the wound on his head flaking off one of his eyelids. At his silence, Kylo sheathed his lightsaber and slashed into the wall. 

“Figure it out,” Kylo raised his hand. Poe felt the familiar pressure and thus drifted off into the void. 

This time was different, though. He felt more in control, and when he pulled on the string, it moved along with him. 

So, yes or no? 

Poe answered truthfully. 

**NO.**

He formulated another response before you could begin. It was truly a miracle that you knew basic code, but in terms of who you were as a person, it wasn’t all that surprising. Poe had never been more thankful so be soulmates to such an intelligent being. 

**BB. JAKKU. MAP.**

Your response came after Poe repeated the series twice. 

**AWARE. YOU. JAKKU?**

Poe bit the insides of his cheek, reluctantly answering.

**NO. KYLO.**

You held onto the string tighter at his response. It made you sick to your stomach - you knew he’d been with him, had inadvertently witnessed their interaction, but it still made you nauseous. Abyss or not, your physical body was in Ancin’s x-wing and you would _not_ vomit in hyperspace. 

**GET. BB.** You could feel his urgency, his desperation through the tether. You wondered if he could feel your anguish, but also your relief at knowing he was okay. 

You answered finally. **THEN YOU.**

Poe smiled at your response. He moved his hand to tug back another response, but the string was no longer tangible and Poe felt the haze of the abyss lifting. It was like he was being pulled up from wet concrete. He blinked once, twice, and his vision cleared into the familiar surroundings of the Finalizer. 

A trooper stood on guard to his right, and suddenly the doors opened to reveal another. He walked into the room briskly, and Poe began to shut his eyes, drained from the mental exhaustion the abyss had taken. 

“Ren wants the prisoner,” the Storm Trooper told the one next to Poe. The bonds around Poe’s arms released, and he looked down at them before looking up at the Storm Trooper in front of him. The trooper on guard shrugged before stepping back and allowing the second one to roughly rip Poe from his constraints. They pulled Poe down the hallway, hand on his elbow and gun pointed loosely.

Poe furrowed his brow, noting the urgency this trooper contained. Kylo had no problem coming to Poe. What changed?

The trooper shoved Poe into a small alcove before lowering the gun. 

“If you do exactly as I say I can get you out of here,” The trooper said quickly. 

“What?”

The trooper pulled off his helmet. “This is a rescue. I’m helping you escape.” 

Poe’s eyes widened. This was a _kid_ he was looking at. A scared shitless kid helping Poe escape the First Order - escape Kylo Ren. Or, Leia was killing it as General and had implemented spies directly into the ranks of the First Order. Poe desperately hoped it was the latter. 

“Can you fly a TIE fighter?” 

“You with the Resistance?” Poe asked. 

“What?” The trooper asked, and Poe’s stomach sank as he eyed him. 

“I can fly anything,” he gauged the kid’s reaction. “You need a pilot.”

The trooper deflated. “I need a pilot.” 

Poe couldn’t help the smile that spread across his features. He couldn’t dream of anything more he would want to do than escape the Finalizer in one of their TIE fighters. He’d always wanted to pilot one - they were ridiculously fast and nimble, and when Poe was done with it, he couldn’t wait to blow it up. 

“We’re gonna do this,” he told his rescuer. Poe Dameron would save the day once again - grab BB-8 and the map from Jakku and return it to Leia. 

Most importantly, Poe would return to _you_. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hellooooo. i'm just gonna apologize for the hiatus - classes are kicking my ass, but i'm currently in finals week so I somehow have a ridiculous amount of motivation to do everything but study. so yay! early sawbones chapter! I hope you all enjoy. 
> 
> xoxox


	11. ELEVEN // TOO LATE

**SAWBONES**

**ELEVEN // TOO LATE.**

You knew Poe. 

It was what you told yourself. 

You knew him in stubbornness, in anger. You knew him by the way his cheeks would cave when his cheeks bit them, the crease between his eyebrows and the ferocity of his brown eyes. 

You knew Poe by body language - the way he would occasionally cock a hip, peer down at you over crossed arms or fists clenched at his sides. The way his presence would consume the air in your medbay, your office, the hangar. His demeanor would rival Leia’s, and challenge your own. 

Everything about Poe was familiar, but when the X-Wing landed in a sparse village on Jakku, and Ancin ripped the blaster from your leggings and pointed it in the small of your back, you realized you didn’t recognize him - didn’t know what he looked like at all. 

The venom dripping from Ancin’s hurried whispers in your ear seeped into your bloodstream, paralyzing your muscular system and constricting your shallow breaths. He’s calling you worthless, resistance scum. Berating you for being so _trusting,_ so _gullible,_ so _blind._

You weren’t blind. Were you?

You and Poe had lived in the same vicinity for months, but you only knew him in the worst conditions. You only recognized Poe when he was mad, or frustrated, or in disbelief. You knew him best when he had a finger in your face, teeth sharp and orange jumpsuit straining at the seams. 

You didn’t know Poe when he was, well, _Poe._ Your mind could fill the gaps with the brief interactions you’d seen from him and his pilots. In the dark behind your eyes, you could imagine Poe’s shoulders hunched forward, eyes disappearing as he laughed. You could visualize the way the thin, gold chain he always wore would rise and fall with his chest. He’d never laughed with you, not really. You’d never known happiness, or peace with Poe. Only conflict. 

(You also knew heavy lidded, slow, sensual, and also _high_ , Poe. You saved that one for after hours.)

So, that was what you thought about when Ancin unsurprisingly turned against you. The bite of the blaster evident through your layers, his finger rested shakily over the trigger. In this moment, you felt like you knew Ancin _more_. You knew he was just a spineless Coruscanti pilot that had fallen in with the wrong crowd. What did the First Order have over him - money, family, empty promises? You couldn’t fault him. You knew the cold, seeping fear of futility all too well. 

You hung your head and Ancin pressed the emitter nozzle harder into your skin until it felt millimeters away from your L3 vertebra. If Ancin contained even an ounce more of adrenaline, there would be an annular hole severing your spinal cord. If the blast didn’t kill you, it would most definitely steal the ability for you to use, well, the entire lower half of your body which would make getting Poe back a _real bitch._

“I was hoping you’d prove me wrong,” you tried to hide your nerves with disappointment, raising your head and turning your head imperceptibly to peer over your left shoulder. “So much potential. Wasted on you, Ancin.”

His free hand grasped tightly on your shoulder as he pressed the blaster _impossibly harder_ into you. Your head snapped back to face the desolate, empty wasteland ahead. Not that it mattered, but the village was situated behind you. You were a few kilometers away from one of the biggest outposts on Jakku - Liima? You couldn’t remember. You’d only half listened to Ancin for the remainder of the trip after your interaction with Poe. And now here he was, pulling a plaster on you. 

“Shut up,” he grit through his teeth. “You don’t know _anything_.” 

Laughing would almost ensure him pulling the trigger, orders to capture you alive be damned, so you bit your tongue to quell a snort. 

“The First Order treats all of us the same, Ancin. Did you think you’d be any different? Do you think there’s actually an outcome where the First Order congratulates you for a job well done and lets you _go?”_

It was stupid thought, but it was one you’d fallen prey to countless times. With each amputation, each cut and each stitch, you told yourself it was the last one. But the warm bodies never ceased, and to your horror, you got disgustingly good at what you did. You were amputating at the joints, healing the skin so flawlessly it was as though the body simply forgot to form the appendage in the first place. You made soldiers forget they were bipedal, or composed entirely of flesh and not machinery in the first place. You did dig your heels in at prosthetics - you had to have some sort of moral ground. Hux didn’t mind, though. He had plenty...exploratory engineers ready to step in as soon as bandages came off. 

The pressure of the barrel lessened, and your heart broke at Ancin’s lapse in strength. 

“Coruscant had uprisings against the First Order. We were one of the few successful planets,” he began, voice clipped. You could hear anguish in his tone, could feel the ragged edges of the pieces Ancin was left in. On D’Qar, walking through the halls with him for the first time, you knew he wasn’t quite right. He took your word about Poe being your soulmate too easily - too quickly. He steered the conversation toward Poe in no time, and his claims against him were rocky. As you thought back to the moment as Ancin collected his composure, you felt paralyzed once again.

It was never about Poe. 

“I was especially good at taking down the TIE fighters. They noticed, took my brother as a bargaining chip.” The blaster resumed its burden. 

“Lord Ren said I could get him back if I got someone he wanted - someone who got away from him. A high ranking officer in the Resistance. Used to go by the name Sawbones.” You didn’t think your body would never _not_ explode into chills at the name. It set forth an ache in your joints, a pain behind your eyes and bile in your mouth. You wanted the word erased from every single dialect in the galaxy. If you so much as heard the _click_ of Sawbones in Geonosian, you’d lose it. You also wanted to throw up at Ancin calling him _Lord_ Ren. 

“So I set forth my search. Discover where the Resistance was keeping their precious medic, infiltrate their ranks? Easy. But to get close to _you?_ Well, that’s where I owe it all to Scoria.” 

You blinked, and in your silence Ancin mistook it for confusion, forgetfulness as he removed the blaster from your spine to slam the base of it into the curve of your skull. You fell forward, barely catching yourself in time to prevent a mouthful of sand. Ancin roughly kicked your side, knocking you flat on your back in the sand. You winced up at him through the harsh light until your vision focused at the barrel moving closer to press firmly between your eyebrows. 

“The one who said Poe was her soulmate? Are you serious?” 

“It’s been a long day,” you argue. You hadn’t forgotten about Scoria - well, you had but the mention of her name put you more into shock than anything else. That conflict seemed so inconsequential in the grand scheme of it all. But hey, at least you know how the fuck she knew about you in the first place. 

Ancin squats down over you as you lean on your elbows in the sand. 

“What was your plan then? You couldn’t have predicted we would find the map after you arrived.” 

“All that matters is that it worked, and I’m done.” He smiled weakly, and you were surprised how long he’d been keeping up the act. Ancin was a shell, the burden of his actions eating him alive for who knows how long. 

“I set off a beacon before we landed, sent our coordinates.” The sun is scorching on Jakku - stepping out of the X-Wing for the first time, it made you reflect on how thankful you were for the moderate climate on D’Qar. But now? You were thanking this desolate desert and it’s ridiculous heat because it made Ancin pull the blaster away from your forehead so he could wipe the sweat from his hairline with the bone of his wrist. It gave you the perfect opportunity to swipe your right foot from under his crouched position and connect it to his jaw, kicking him backwards. 

Maybe you should stop cursing the universe, because in this instance, it finally sided with you when he released his grip on the blaster to both catch his descent and cradle his injury. You lunged for it, swiping it out of the sand as you and your now victim switched positions. 

“Smart bitch,” he spat blood into the sand. 

“I know my way around a blaster,” you shrugged before pulling the trigger, shooting a clean hole through the top of his boot. 

He screamed in pain, but it was a sound you were used to. You analyzed the wound quickly, noting how the heat from the blaster neatly cauterized the edges. Nothing fatal, and he wouldn’t follow. You shot another hole into his left hand for good measure. 

“What the _fuck_ was that?” he held his... _well_ , stub to his chest. Your aim was a little off, you miscalculated the blast’s radius and his hand was now lying limp in the sand beside him. Was it overkill? Maybe. But you’d learned not to hesitate, not to expect the best out of people. Just because someone hadn’t done it to you initially didn’t mean they weren’t going to do it at all. 

“Peace of mind,” you tucked the blaster back in your waistband.

You didn’t hear the scream of TIE fighters, nor the black specks of their presence in Jakku’s atmosphere, but you’d been stationary for too long. It was time to move. Hippocratic Oath, your ass. Do no harm unless the person initially tries to harm you first, you tried to reason with your moral compass. Your conscience was absolutely berating you as you left Ancin to struggle in the sand behind you, pleading not to leave, his voice in anguish about his brother. You drowned it out, focused on the weight of each step as you made your way towards what you hoped was the Liima Outpost. Hiima? Wiima? You furrowed your brows, thinking hard before it finally clicked. 

_The Niima Outpost._

Ancin had told you that was the destination, but based on the few scant tents in your peripheral, you hadn’t made it. Why would he bring you to one of the few populated places on his planet if he was planning on handing you over? Had you been flying with a hostage, you’d stop somewhere on the outskirts. Taking note of your lack of surroundings, outskirts you were located indeed. 

You kept walking. 

✗ ✗ ✗ 

The desert was cooling by the time you saw civilization. A few kilometers, your ass. The only thing you’d seen in the distance between where you left Ancin and your current location was the fiery streak of a falling aircraft. The galaxy was a brutal place, and your feet had stopped to watch the object burn up in the atmosphere until it made violent contact with the sand below. In the way it spun to the ground, it’s structure reminded you of a TIE fighter. But that was hours ago, and it left your mind just as quick as it fell.

You’d shed your brown vest and belt hours ago, now only your sweat stained tunic and leggings adorned your body. The sun was a sliver beyond the horizon, the sky above you falling into the deepest mixture of purple and black. What bothered you the most, quickened your pace despite your exhaustion was the sheer flatness of the universe above you. It was as though Jakku had every star in it’s sky snuffed out. 

You tried not to dwell on the fact that this planet was so remote, so _lonely_ that even the stars didn’t want to remain in it’s company. You shuffled through the tents and scavengers, avoiding their eyes as you scanned the structures, looking for some type of _hub_ , a main area that could lead you to someone who could get you off this forsaken planet. Every second you stayed decreased the distance between you and Kylo. The thought alone was enough to keep propelling your legs forward, no matter the exertion plaguing your muscles. 

The...sturdiest structure of the whole outpost stood in the middle of the dilapidated tents. Multiple forms were gathered around in a circle, drinking out of metal cans. The group erupted in a fit of laughter as you pulled back the fabric to enter. 

You didn’t fool yourself into thinking any of them were friendly. They probably wouldn’t even spare you a glance, let alone help you across the galaxy. You approached them anyways - no way would you be left to rot on this planet. If they wouldn’t help you, the Resistance would send someone to extract you - right?

Poe was leaps and bounds more important to the Resistance than you, and they hadn’t even considered getting him. But then again, your circumstances were different. You were trapped in the middle of a desert, and Poe was in the heart of the First Order. You’d teach yourself how to fly if they didn’t, if only to kick Holdo, Organa and _especially_ Ackbar’s asses. 

Another round of laughter sounded as you shuffled closer, and you could barely keep one foot in front of the other. 

The red thread tied to your pinky was a lot like your nose. Your nose is always in your view, but since it’s such a constant, your eyes begin to ignore it unless something draws attention to it. The thread was the same - a blur in your vision over the years. You hadn’t paid any mind to it as you trudged across the sand. But if you did, you would’ve noticed that the end of the thread wasn’t so distant, and that it was directly connected to someone sitting in the group you were approaching. 

“Pretty girl,” a large man sneered, directly facing your approach. You rested against a not so sturdy pillar. “Traveling all by herself in these sands?” 

You didn’t have the capacity to form words, your mouth was so dry. He knocked the guy next to him with his elbow to draw his attention towards you. The cacophony of their laughs was a distance echo as they all watched you silently with hungry eyes. 

The man next to the one who noticed you first murmured something under his breath to the group, too low for you to hear, nevermind that it was in a dialect you didn’t recognize. 

Your vision was quick to blur as you dropped to your knees - dehydration shutting down your body systems. You’d noticed the signs a few hours into your trek - your blood turning viscous, your heart working overtime to maintain blood pressure as your vessels shrunk. You’d had the worst migraine of your life, knowing that even precious fluid from your brain was being siphoned to be held by your kidneys. You were in dangerous territory, both physically and literally, but you couldn’t keep your vision clear as you collapsed on your side, rolling onto your back as your head pushed deep in the sand. 

Poe had been watching the bottom of his can, ignoring the words for sometime until he heard the thump of your body hit the ground. The pain from the less than stellar landing he had made with Finn ransacked his body - that’s that he attributed the pain in his left arm to. He was new to the thread, hadn’t truly believed it until Kylo had sent his consciousness deep within itself and that thread was the only thing he could see, your body on the other side the only presence he could feel. 

But now, you were here and unconscious on the ground and his cells were _screaming_ for him to scramble to you. So he did, shooting up from his makeshift chair and cradling your limp body. He’d never seen you so pale, your lips so dry. He’d always seen you so soft, so supple and so full of life. Your pulse was a bare flutter beneath his fingertips, and he looked up to Naka lit, the blarina who had saved him from the wreckage and brought him to the Niima Outpost. The scavenger held Poe’s gaze as he took another swig from his cup. 

“I saw her first,” Unkar Plutt sneered to Poe. He was the boss of Jakku, the sole reason people were _alive_ on this arid planet. He wasn’t someone Poe wanted to cross, but for you, he’d spit in the face of a sith. 

“She’s my thread,” Poe began, the words foreign on his tongue. “Water is all I ask.” 

Plutt narrowed his eyes but remained seated, trying to figure out if a human had actually demanded _he_ do something for _them._

“She’s the Resistance’s head medic,” he tried again, the beat under your skin weakening by the minute. “Imagine the reward if you save her.” 

This time, Plutt stood to grab a canteen from the trading counter behind him. As he approached, he held it high above Poe’s kneeling form. 

“Rebel scum,” he sneered, but dropped the canteen into the sand. 

Poe tried not to roll his eyes at the fate of the galaxy being considered _politics,_ but he grabbed the canteen and tilted your head up, delicately pouring the liquid into your mouth. 

_Was this the right thing to do?_ Poe wondered. _Were you too far past simply drinking water? Would that be enough?_

Had the roles been reversed, he imagined you hastily stringing together an IV out of the scrap in this tent, miraculously finding what you needed and pulling him from the brink. But this was all he could do - pour water past your cracked, dry lips. Had your life depended upon the destruction of a TIE Fighter, or cannons on a ship, he could do that. He could do that in a second. Everything about flying, about piloting was quick and yielded even faster results. Nothing was out of his control when he was in the seat of his x-wing. There, he was power and speed and control. Here, he was none of those. He was stationary, floating in dead space until he felt your throat constrict as you struggled to swallow. 

Relief flooded his system as he rested his forehead to yours. 

  
  


✗ ✗ ✗ 

You woke yourself up by dry heaving over the side of your cot. Were you hungover? The light flooding in from the holes in the thin cloth of the tent was too bright, your head too heavy and your stomach sour. Nothing came up as you violently retched. The memories came flooding back, correcting your mind that _no,_ you weren’t hungover. You were just super fucking dehydrated. 

A canteen was placed in the sand next to you, and you sipped slowly to adjust your body to the influx of fluids after being deprived for so long. You kept your eyes screwed shut as you drank slowly, your right arm so stiff that you could barely hold the container to your lips. 

The flap to the small tent opened, and instantly your right arm was flooded with endorphins, numbing it all to a dull ache. 

You cracked one eye open slightly, quickly choking on the water as you gasped at Poe.

He immediately fell to his knees at the side of your cot, clapping you on the back as you expelled the water from your trachea. As you regained your breath, you turned your head slowly to look at him. Poe’s features were creased tightly, concern etched on every plane. You gingerly lifted your right hand to lay against his cheek, not trusting your brain quite yet to not conjure some kind of hallucination. 

Your body shook with the realization that it was _him,_ it was _Poe_ and he was here with you. In this tent. On Jakku. 

... _on Jakku?_

Poe must’ve read your thoughts, because he pushed the canteen into your other hand, urging you to continue sipping as he leaned against the palm against his cheek. 

“We have more allies than we know,” Poe said simply. You couldn’t bring yourself to ask more questions, to delve further into how exactly the two of you were under the same sky, pulled down by the same gravity, breathing the same air. In all honesty, you didn’t care. He was here, in one piece. Kylo hadn’t broken him. 

You would’ve teared up at the thought had your body contained any fluid to spare. Instead, you pressed your lips together tight and gripped his face tighter. 

_Thank the stars, thank the galaxy,_ you chanted in your mind. _For siding with me. Again._

He expelled a heavy breath at your grip, his left hand resting against your right. He intertwined your fingers, bringing your hand from his face to rest on the cot. His left and your right, pinkies pressed firmly together. You eyed the thread closely, noting how this time, it had formed a figure-eight between both fingers. No longer was the thread tied to your respective fingers, but looped around. You couldn’t tell where the thread began or ended, no knot to eye or slack to pull. 

“Is it there?” Poe asked softly, staring at your hands. He had to be sure, had to be 100%. 

“Yes,” you breathed, your voice hoarse. He shut his eyes tightly, gripping your fingers tightly too as he begged whatever power was out there to let him _see_ it. 

When Poe opened them again, he did. It was as red as the paint on his helmet, the blood coursing through his veins. It was real and it was looped between your finger and his. He reached out his other hand to swipe his thumb against it, to feel the bump of the thread under his own skin. The string pulled with the movement of his thumb and then snapped back into place. When Poe finally blinked, it was gone. But it was enough. 

He looked back up to you, the emotion in his eyes unrecognizable, unreadable to you. You searched regardless, feeling as though the weight of his gaze had its own gravitational pull and you were being pulled in, _closer and closer and closer and clos-_

“We need to get off Jakku,” Poe broke your trance, your faces so close you shared the same breath. He rested his forehead against yours like he had done earlier. “After,” he breathed, his body fighting his mind, his words. You nodded. Now wasn’t the right time. You were weak, the two of you in danger. 

“How’d you get here?” Poe asked. 

“Ancin.” You answered as you pulled away to take another gulp of water. He waited for you to finish, to elaborate. 

“Traitor,” was your only answer. “What about you?” 

Poe visibly deflated, remembering the wreckage, remembering Finn. He’d never found his body.

“A storm trooper broke me out, helped me steal a TIE fighter. He wanted to escape, to jump to the next system, but I told him I needed to get back here, needed to get BB-8.” Poe stopped himself before he could continue. He withdrew his hand from yours to press the heels of his hands into his eyes. He resituated himself so he was sitting in the hand, one leg propped up as he ran his hands over his face. “He risked his life to get me out, knew I was his only shot, and it killed him. _I_ killed him.” 

You frowned, your mind clicking together the puzzle pieces. 

“Please don’t tell me you were that aircraft that crashed.” 

Poe looked up from the ground, his eyes wide. “You saw it?” 

“Yeah, when I was walking,” your fingers fidgeted with the cap on the canteen. “I didn’t think there’d be any survivors.”

“You saw it crash and didn’t check if there were survivors?” Poe’s question bit, hitting like his earlier statements did on D’Qar - questioning the validity of your expertise, your dedication to saving people. You cocked your head at him, eyes narrowing. 

“What was I supposed to do, Dameron? I barely made it here without passing out. You think I could’ve made it all the way to the wreckage and dragged a few bodies across this wasteland?” Fuck the moment the two of you had shared moments ago - you were angry now. “It looked like a TIE fighter. Would you have gone to check it out?” 

Poe sighed, resting his forehead against the cool metal bar of your cot. “ _No_ ,” he answered. Of course he wouldn’t, and of course you wouldn’t, either. From Kylo’s few words on the matter, he knew that you had been forced into the First Order, forced to do their bidding. You wouldn’t save any of them, and he didn’t - wouldn’t - blame you for it. But Finn deserved to be saved, and he was only pushing his own guilt onto you. 

“I asked him what his name was, and he said it was FN-2187,” Poe’s voice caught in his throat, his chest. “They’re _numbers.”_

You nodded. “I know,” you raked a hand through his hair as his head continued to rest against the metal, his hands squeezing and releasing the sand below him. You refused to think on just how many _numbers_ you’d cut into. 

“So I gave him a name. I told him I was gonna call him Finn,” Poe smiled, remembering Finn’s reaction. Though they had been back to back in the fighter, Poe could hear the excitement in his voice, the vigorous nod of his head as Finn told him, _Yeah - great. I like that!_

“You saved each other,” your fingers worked through the knots in his hair. “You got him out, Poe. I wish someone could’ve done that for me.”

He lifted his head at your words, your hands falling to your lap. You hid your smile at the bar’s slight imprint on your forehead. 

“Ren knew you, called you a nickname. Said the Resistance was _too soft_ for you,” Poe began speaking on the topic of Kylo slowly and cautiously, waiting to see your reaction. Your stomach flipped, the mention of it felt like all the air in the tent had been sucked away, but you nodded softly, telling Poe it was okay. You were grateful for his omission of your said nickname. You knew Kylo had used it. 

“He sent people for the map, but I have no doubt he wants to come for you personally,” Poe’s veins were on fire at the thought of Kylo even laying his eyes on you. You and Poe would have to run - there was no way to stand against him head to head. Poe couldn’t compete with the force, but if he had to, he’d make sure any confrontation with Kylo Ren took place in the skies. 

“We have to go. Now,” Poe stood, wiping the sand off his clothes. You finished the canteen and stood up after him, steading your wobbly legs by holding onto his bicep. 

_Fuck is that firm,_ you thought. Your fingers squeezed the muscle under his shirt on their own accord and Poe laughed lightly. 

Poe’s gentle laugh was cut short by the scream of TIE fighters and blaster fire entering the atmosphere. 

_Too late._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi. Hello. I apologize for the long wait for this chapter. I’ve been so busy lately, which leads me to say that after this chapter, Sawbones will be on hiatus. Spring semester starts next week for me, and with classes, clubs and the exec position I hold in my sorority, I won’t have the time to dedicate to writing like I used to. You all deserve better than hastily written chapters, which is what I would provide if I did not make this very difficult decision. Thank you for all the love and support on this story - it is not ending. I just need time to assimilate to my new crazy schedule. If I find the time or motivation to write - trust me. I will. I love you all, and thank you for reading. I hope you all liked this chapter. xoxox


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